


Whom Gods Destroy

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2016, After Camlann Merlin Big Bang, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: In the aftermath of the battle for Camelot, Morgana dreams terrible dreams, Uther is convinced he needs to begin another purge, and Merlin and Arthur are each struggling with their own problems.  There is a threat approaching greater than them all, and when it begins, enemies must find a way to work together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this has been terrifying, frustrating, and a huge amount of fun! Thanks especially to my wonderful artist for providing so much excellent and beautiful art, and for taking so much time and trouble over it. I can only hope my words do it some justice. Please to go to the art masterpost here http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651 and leave lots of kudos!
> 
> Thanks to my beta inspired_being for beating this into submission - I have fiddled since, so all remaining errors or inconsistencies are all down to me.
> 
> A note of apology for the capital letters at one point in this fic - my artist has sent me a link to a post on how to include different fonts and when I work out exactly what to do, I'll replace the "shouty" text!
> 
> Finally, thanks to the mods keeping this great fest running - long may it continue!

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651)

**Prologue**

Morgana screamed.

In her rage and sorrow, she reached down inside herself and experienced a surge of unexpected power.

She screamed again, this time in terror as this new-found force wouldn’t be controlled and the tower walls split apart, sending stones tumbling towards them. She threw her hand up, working on instinct, and a shield formed over herself and the unconscious form of Morgause. She sobbed aloud while shaking Morgause with her free hand and the shield wavered. Morgana knew she wasn’t strong enough to hold off the terrible weight of the falling stone. She felt the protection falter. The brief surge had deserted her and she drew on every ounce of her will to maintain their protection.

“Morgause. Morgause, please you must wake up.”

Morgause groaned and stirred, but didn’t wake.

Morgana could feel the sweat beading her brow, the trembling in her limbs matching the tremor in the shield. In that moment, she knew they were going to die and she poured every ounce of power she could find within herself into the shield and knew it still wouldn’t be nearly enough. A sudden warmth swept over her, a feeling of peace and strength, drawn from a place far beyond her she gasped as it flowed upward, punching through her failing shield and covering them in a golden curve; beautiful, steady and secure.

“Morgana, you have to get out of there.”

The voice seemed familiar, but there was a tone to it, a reverberation underpinned by a certainty, that made it difficult to identify. – even if she’d had the time to consider it.

“Morgause,”

This time Morgause responded to her urgings, gasping in pain as she struggled to pull herself upright. She stared at the golden shield and then at Morgana.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but we have to leave now. Can you use your power?”

“Hold tight to me, sister.”

Even weak as she was, Morgause possessed strength enough to draw the winds around her and spirit them both away.

As the room flickered around them, Morgana called out.

“Thank you.”

Morgana thought she heard a whispered reply but whether it was spoken aloud, or into her mind, or she just imagined it, she couldn’t say.

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur stepped into his chambers and his straight back and proud carriage slumped. He’d spent the morning in the town, reviewing the current state of repairs and taking the time to talk to those who had been affected. It was exhausting, presenting a façade of confidence and strength, trying to give an unsettled people the reassurance they needed. He had eaten as he walked through the town, ensuring he received the same meagre ration as the townspeople, but in truth it was as much as he felt he could stomach anyway.

A noise startled him upright. He raised his chin and began to pull the mantle of dignified royalty around him until Merlin stepped forward. At the sight of his manservant, Arthur relaxed, letting loose a quiet sigh.

For once, Merlin remained silent while helping him remove his cloak and mail, gradually peeling away the layers until he could sink into the hot bath, the water steaming gently.

Merlin left him to his thoughts and Arthur wondered a little at his quiet though he was grateful for it. Slumped in the mercifully hot water, he found himself watching Merlin as he pottered around the room. They were all tired, he acknowledged, but Merlin had lost all of his usual ebullience and Arthur acknowledged a vague concern that had tugged at the back of his mind. Since they regained Camelot, Merlin had been little more than a walking shadow.

Despite confronting the situation in his own thoughts, Arthur had no idea what to do about it.  For the moment it was merely one more problem to add to his list. While not the most important one, it still managed to remain close to the forefront of his mind. Arthur knew his limitations, which Merlin and Morgana had never failed to point out in their own separate ways. Both had helped him become a better man and he suppressed a twinge of sadness at the loss of Morgana as a friend, never mind the fact he’d never been able to acknowledge her as a sister.

With a quick frown, Arthur accepted he didn't deal well with emotions, his own or other peoples', but at least he now recognised when something was wrong and Merlin's whole demeanour had changed. It looked as if more than mere exhaustion was wearing him down. The only trouble was, Arthur had no idea how to improve matters because he knew Merlin well enough to know that should he ask, Merlin would insist he was well. Arthur shut his eyes.

After a few moments, he became aware of Merlin kneeling behind him and a gentle hand pressed lightly on his back to move him forward. Arthur had been brought up accepting the impersonal touch of a parade of servants, but only with Merlin had such touch brought comfort. The knots in his shoulders and around his neck eased with every pass of the warm cloth, with every press of Merlin’s fingers. How could it be, he wondered in something of a hazy stupor from the heat, that Merlin always seemed to know where he was hurting? The care and the love in every touch became almost too much to bear and to his horror he felt the prickle of moisture at the back of his eyes. He drew in a deep, unsteady breath and the hands on him stilled for a second before pressing down and then withdrawing.

Arthur swallowed hard, fighting for control.

“It’s cold out there today,” Merlin said, in a blessedly matter-of-fact tone and Arthur could only nod in agreement, without having to test his voice.

“Cook was feeling generous – she sent us up a jug of mulled cider. Here.”

Arthur cracked open one eye to be faced with a tankard. He pushed himself further upright in the tub and accepted it with a smile and a tilt of his head, acknowledging it for the treat it was. Merlin generally disapproved of drinking or eating in the bath for some reason.

“Are you having some?”

“What do you think the chances are of me passing up cook’s mulled cider?”

Arthur managed to find a smile for him then, aware of the forced levity in Merlin’s voice and taking a moment to consider when exactly he’d come to know Merlin well enough to decipher some of his moods – even if he seldom understood the reasons for them.

Merlin, in complete defiance of any etiquette rules, perched on the side of the tub, his own tankard cradled in his cupped hands and his eyes fixed on its contents.

“How’s your father?”

Arthur sighed. “I'll see how he copes with the Council this afternoon.  Anyway, you’re the one who works for the Court Physician – I’d lay bets you know as much as I do.”

Merlin didn’t deny it. “I know what Gaius has told me – that he seems a little absent-minded.”

“I think he’s broken. I think Morgana’s betrayal has broken him.” The words blurted out, escaping his thoughts.  Only with Merlin did he feel he could express some of his own fears.

Merlin drained his drink and moved from his spot. Arthur barely restrained himself from calling him back. Merlin placed his tankard on the table and traced a finger around the rim, his brows drawn together and mouth turned down.

“What are you thinking?”

“You won’t like it,” Merlin said.

“When do I ever?”

Merlin quirked a half-smile, a sad smile, at him.

“I think your father has been broken for a long time.”

Arthur shrugged, but couldn’t argue with a conclusion so close to his own.

“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in Merlin’s voice had Arthur clearing his throat before he could speak.

“I need to attend Council and then I'll dine with my father this evening. We have to at least give the illusion that everything is getting back to normal.” He handed his mug to Merlin and hauled himself out of the tub, absently accepting the towel handed to him as he stared down at the water.

“How long did I spend in the bath, Merlin?”

“Almost a full candlemark. Is something wrong?”

Merlin joined him as Arthur stood staring down at the gently steaming water.

“The water’s still hot.”

Merlin trailed his fingers through it and a shudder ran through him, sending him staggering backwards and Arthur cupped a hand under his elbow to offer support.

“Merlin?”

“That’s strange,” the tone in Merlin’s voice suggested catastrophic rather than strange, but Arthur took one look at his pallor and the outright fear in his eyes and let it go, squeezing Merlin’s elbow hard in a rough reassurance then managing a bracing, confident tone.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation. Where’s my blue tunic?”

 The quiet murmur of conversation dwindled to silence when Arthur entered the Council chamber. He had been stopped on his way by one of the knights and had spent a few moments in quiet conversation with him.  It meant Uther had already taken his seat on the throne, upright and frowning, when Arthur walked up the aisle and  bowed low.

An upraised hand from Uther stopped him in his tracks.

“You are late.” 

“My apologies, sire, Sir Gethin wished to clarify an issue regarding tomorrow’s patrol.”

Arthur waited until Uther waved a hand towards the chair, bowing once more before moving. His father seemed more himself today; more alert and not so mired in the malaise that had struck him down after Morgana’s betrayal. Yet something about his father's demeanour made him uneasy and his gaze travelled the hall until it locked with Merlin’s where he could see his own disquiet reflected.

Uther wasted no more time and the moment Arthur seated himself, Uther stood.  He towered over the assembly from his position on the dais.

“My people, my friends,” he began. “Once again Camelot has been tested and has not been found wanting. Once again sorcery has tried to rip away life and liberty, and has torn our brightest jewel from us. The Lady Morgana has been infected by lies and her loyalty stolen from us by the pernicious influence of the witch, Morgause.

They must be found. Morgause must be brought before us. She must pay for her crimes and we must rescue the Lady Morgana from whatever enchantment she has been placed under. All our patrols will have but one purpose; all our work will be to one end. Find Morgause. Bring her here alive. Find Morgana.”

With those final words, he stepped from the dais. His cloak swirled around him as he swept through a stunned council and a wave of suddenly bowed heads mapped his progress.

Arthur took to his feet as soon as his father stood, but made no move to follow him. In the face of the worried faces turned towards him from Council members, knights and servants alike, he knew everyone had reached the same conclusion. Camelot, bruised and battered by battle and occupation – however brief – was in no fit state to mount the type of sustained effort Uther was ordering. The last time they had searched for Morgana it had almost broken them and even then she was not found until, Arthur now realised in retrospect, she and Morgause wanted her to be found.

“Council members, the King has issued his command. I will discuss with him the details of how he wishes it to be carried out and will inform you of his plans.” he offered the only reassurance he could and his eyes swiftly catalogued those who relaxed, those who remained troubled, and those whose eyes and expressions held guile and cunning.

He stayed in place and let the council disperse until only Gaius, Leon and Merlin remained. Once the great doors had closed, Arthur walked across to the window furthest from any who might overhear them and waited until they clustered around him.

Leon spoke first, his voice low. "The knights are already exhausted, sire, and many are still injured.”  He shrugged as he spoke, signifying his understanding that this wouldn't come as any surprise to Arthur.

Blunt and to the point, Merlin chipped in. “We won’t find Morgause and Morgana if they don’t want to be found.”

Gaius remained silent until Arthur turned to him. “Did you notice something different about my father today?”

“He seems to have regained his drive. He's convinced  Morgana is under Morgause’s spell. His hatred for magic is already fierce, but I am concerned it is becoming…”

Gaius stopped, as if measuring his words and he probably was, the wily old sod.

“Where magic is concerned, your father is not rational, Arthur.” Gaius paused again and exchanged a quick look with Merlin. “You can't truly believe all magic and all magic users are evil? Your father has an extreme stance and I'm concerned recent events have hardened his views further. I'm concerned he intends a second purge.”

Both Merlin and Leon gasped as Arthur stared at Gaius. For some reason, he hadn’t expected that.

“Sire,” Leon had seldom sounded so troubled. “I have always abided by my King’s law, but the Druids saved my life. They checked every man from Camelot in that patrol and would have saved more if they could. They are a peaceful folk. Sire, I do not think I could –“ He stopped himself abruptly and bit his lip against the words he clearly wanted to say.

Merlin didn't restrain himself. “Arthur, this is madness.”

Arthur had never heard Merlin sound so assured, so decisive, and he didn't miss the warning hand Gaius placed on Merlin’s arm. Merlin shook his head and stepped to the side, dislodging the touch.

“You know it, Arthur.” His voice became quieter, but no less sincere. “There are so few magic users left in Camelot. The Druids remain to care for the land and to ensure the rituals of the Old Religion are followed, but even they'll be forced to leave should Uther start another purge. And what will happen if we can’t find Morgana and Morgause and Uther can’t find enough magic users to slake his thirst for revenge?”

Arthur wanted to be angry with Merlin, all the more so because he knew every word carried a conviction and a clear assessment of what they faced. They were talking about his King and his father; all of his life he had revered one and loved the other, he had sought to emulate his best qualities. He pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Leon, would you be willing to travel to the Druids and suggest that, for the moment, it might be wise for them to go beyond Camelot’s borders. Tell them,” he hesitated and then ploughed on. “Tell them I bear them no ill will and when I'm king, they'll be welcome and safe within Camelot.”

All three stared at him and then Leon swept a low bow.

“Sire, I will carry out that order with pleasure.” He bowed again and then swept away, his solid, steady footsteps gradually dying away.

The very air and stones around them seemed to tremble and a slight shudder ran through the floor under their feet.  For a moment it felt as if they were standing on the deck of a ship.

Gaius raised his eyebrows. “It is many years since the Mother moved in such a way.”

Merlin tipped his head on one side. “My mother spoke of something like this happening in Ealdor before I was born. Nothing came of it and no one was harmed.”

He shrugged it aside, though Arthur noted Gaius still stared at the ground beneath them. In the distance he could hear the muted sounds of the city, overlain with the less usual sounds of reconstruction.  Arthur knew the work would carry on deep into dusk as they raced against time to ensure shelter for all before winter set in.

“I must talk to the King.”

“Arthur – “

He held up his hand. “Merlin, he's the King and he's given his orders. I'll do what I can and there's nothing else I can promise you.” He heard Merlin draw in a breath and carried on. “Gaius, if by any chance you're aware of others within Camelot who still use magic, you need to warn them and ensure they leave quickly.” Again, he saw that strange look between Gaius and Merlin, one Arthur really didn’t want to attempt to decipher for fear of where it might lead.

“We'll talk again later,” and ignoring the hand Merlin reached out and placed on his arm to stop him, Arthur strode away.

“Father,” Arthur hesitated inside the door to Uther’s chambers. Uther stood by the window, staring out across the courtyard.

Uther turned and seemed to shake himself from his introspection. “Arthur, come in. I hoped you might join me so Edward is bringing food for us both.”

“Thank you, sire. I thought you might have more instructions for me following your announcement this evening.”

Uther looked lost for a moment, but quickly recovered. “Yes, of course, but after we’ve eaten. Tell me about the castle and the town. I expect the repairs must be almost done.”

Arthur tried not to show his surprise. Only a scant few weeks had passed since they had regained control the castle, and the occupation as well as the battle had caused considerable damage. They’d carried out the harvest in that period too, not to mention suffered an early onset of winter that continued to hamper the ability to build. Uther should know all this all understand it would take more time to complete the reconstruction.

“It’s going well, Sire, though there's much still to be done.”

Uther raised his eyebrows. “You need to push them harder, Arthur. It doesn’t do to be too soft.”

“Of course, Father.” Arthur wanted to argue, but the conversation to come remained at the forefront of Arhtur's mind and he deemed it wiser not to make any comment.

Once the food arrived and the servants withdrew, they ate in silence. From time to time Arthur saw Uther’s fist clench and then relax, as if whatever thoughts going through his mind disturbed him. On his own part, he hunted for ways to broach the subject of Morgana and Morgause, considering and discarding a direct plea or an appeal on behalf of their exhausted knights. His heart sank further as he understood how his own confidence in his father as a king had eroded almost to nothing.

Their plates had barely been touched when both pushed them away. Arthur picked up his goblet of wine and stared into its depths for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was easy and unconcerned.

“You’ve taught me the value of subtlety, Father, and it strikes me it may be a valuable approach in our current situation.” Uther smiled a little and inclined his head to acknowledge his words but Arthur continued quickly before he could say anything. “I’ve been thinking about the best way to go about the hunt for Morgana and Morgause. Would you consider sending out a series of patrols disguised as a review of Camelot’s borders and lands? It would be an obvious thing for a king to decree following an attack. The hunt for Morgana and the witch would be the main point, of course, but we may gain more information about their whereabouts if they don’t become aware of the search.”

Arthur took a casual sip of his wine, working hard to keep his posture relaxed.

Uther nodded and smiled. “A sound strategy, Arthur. You’ve learned my lessons well.”

“Thank you, Father.” Once, those words would have filled Arthur with delight for having managed to please Uther, but now all he felt was a hollowness and bitter regret.

“Talk to Gaius as well,” Uther continued. “I want him to begin a discreet list of anyone within Camelot’s borders who he believes may have any connection to magic or the Old Religion.”

“I’ve already asked him to do so, Father.” For vastly different purposes, but Uther need not know that, and for now the fact he’d done so was enough to bring a proud smile to Uther’s features.

“Well done, indeed, Arthur. Well done.”

The following morning Arthur woke before Merlin arrived with breakfast and he mulled over the encounter with his father. He considered love, loyalty and duty; wondering why it seemed so difficult to maintain a balance these days. His thoughts turned to Merlin, as he acknowledged his constant questioning of things Arthur had thought sacrosanct had led to this change. Before Merlin, Arthur had seen the world in black and white, in good and evil, wrong and right. The word of his father had been law and not only as king, but also because Arthur loved and idolised his father. Merlin had asked why things happened, why they had to be this way, offering a counter to Uther’s point of view. For the first time in his life Arthur had been forced to consider his own views, which broadened to recognise a world full of contradictions and gradations. The one revelation he had fought against admitting for the longest time related to his father’s moral frailty. Uther remained a strong king in many ways, but Arthur now knew he was not infallible and that his father’s pride and inflexibility often led to decisions Arthur knew did not match the best interests of Camelot.

His introspection ended when Merlin entered and he let his manservant silently ready him for the day. As he left his quarters he pressed his hand to Merlin’s shoulder, feeling the tension there. They shared a quiet smile before continuing about their business. Arthur tried not to worry about Merlin, though the memory of his pallor and quiet returned to him at various points throughout the day.

Arthur filled his morning with the minutia of organising the new patrol schedule and carefully briefing the knights on who would be doing what.  To his mind, these patrols would reassure their subjects and allow them to take stock. It wasn’t the best weather to be sending anyone abroad, cold even for the early winter season, and it took time to consider rations and resources. The patrols would seek information on the whereabouts of Morgana and Morgause, but for Arthur the search remained the secondary concern. The discussions ranged across ways and means, timing and routes, where patrols could gain shelter so they were not placed at risk of succumbing to the bitter nights, and all of them were careful not to mention Uther’s demands.

Once free, Arthur headed to his chambers for lunch, thinking about the way the knights were deferring to him, even those he knew had been fiercely loyal to Uther. They had all drawn together, including those he’d recently knighted and were Arthur’s knights to a man. Where he might have expected reticence and downright hostility from knights who had come up through the established protocol, the new knights had been accepted by them to a man.  It seemed their defence of Arthur and the relief of Camelot had demonstrated their mettle.  All the signs pointed to a realignment of loyalties, an understanding in some unspoken way there had been a shift in power and he bit his lip as he turned a corner. His contemplation finally lead to an admission, if only to himself, of his true concerns: how long could Uther continue to rule? He pushed the thought away the moment it occurred to him, uneasily aware how close it felt to treason.

As he passed the end of another corridor, he caught sight of a red cape and halted, wondering if one of the knights needed him. Lancelot was by a window, staring down at the courtyard as if transfixed. When he noticed Arthur’s presence, he started, bowed briefly, and moved away to continue down the next corridor. Arthur frowned and peered out of another window close to him, looking in the same direction. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Gwen, pretty as a picture in her yellow dress, a wicker basket held against her hip as she stared up towards the point where Lancelot had been standing.

Ah.

Well at least he could do something about that situation. Yet again he had been forced to consider another point of view and to think beyond his own interpretation of the world. Gwen did love him, he knew, and he’d tried to ignore the hopeless, helpless glances she and Lancelot cast at one another. Gwen would make a wonderful Queen for Camelot, as Merlin had been at pains to stress in his efforts to push them together, but if he continued in his suit and they did marry, none of them would ever be happy.

“Blast you, Merlin,” he muttered. “Why did you turn up and make me start thinking.”

He still frowned as he walked into his chamber and didn’t miss Merlin’s flinch. What’s wrong with the man? Not knowing made him more determined to sort out the one thing he could, because between Merlin, his Father, Morgana and the woes of his people and land, his levels of frustration climbed higher by the day.

“Merlin, I’d like to see Guinevere, please.”

“Now?”

“No, next week will do – of course, now.”

“I’ll have to see if I can find her.”

Arthur glanced at him, noting his pallor and how he seemed to be shedding weight by the moment. “That’s what we have servants for, Merlin. Send one to do that.”

Merlin was staring at him with softness in his smile. “I’m a servant, Arthur.”

“No you’re not.” The words blurted out of Arthur’s mouth before he’d given them any consideration. “I mean, you’re my servant – you shouldn’t be running around doing things like that.”

“So I should be doing your laundry and mucking out the stables instead?”

Arthur was so heartened to have Merlin teasing him, although sure to keep his expression haughty, that he almost missed the content of the response, and when his words registered he frowned.

“You don’t really do my laundry and muck out the stables, do you?”

“You tell me to.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open and he spluttered in an undignified fashion before he found his voice again. “I tell you to get them done – not to do them yourself, you idiot.”

“Well, how could I know that, you prat!”

What could he say to that? What could he do other than laugh? Everything seemed to catch up with him all at once and he slumped on to a seat, put his head in his hands and laughed. It had a hysterical edge to it, which he tried to ignore, and when he managed to calm himself a little and look up he noticed Merlin’s affronted expression ease to become something else entirely.  He buried his head in his hands again.

After a moment, he sensed movement and a hand rested on his shoulder, gripping hard for a moment before Merlin’s hand slid down to rub across his shoulders.

Perhaps Merlin realised his laughter was perilously close to tears. Arthur’s nature didn’t tend towards open displays of emotion like this and he drew in deep breaths, using each pass of Merlin’s hand to help him steady his breathing. He couldn’t deny the loss he felt when Merlin finally stepped away.

“I’ll send someone for Gwen then, shall I?” Merlin said, not commenting on Arthur's uncharacteristic hysteria.

Arthur nodded and took the few moments after Merlin left the room to find his calm. When Merlin re-entered Arthur saw the sharp glance cast him before Merlin launched into a rant about some minor edict of the Castle steward to do with damp firewood. Arthur grunted at intervals as Merlin helped him out of his mail but didn’t really listen. The comfortable routine helped and Arthur felt himself settle further.

By the time the knock on the door sounded he felt completely calm and greeted Gwen with a smile. Her smile in response was muted and he could see the lines of strain around her eyes.

“Guinevere, how are you?”

She smoothed her hands down her dress and fussed with the ties of her bodice for a moment.

“I’m well, sire, thank you.”

He wanted to tell her to call him Arthur, as she’d done in the past without thinking, but perhaps the formality would be a better frame for the conversation they were about to have.

“Please sit.”

They were both nervous, Arthur thought, and took a moment to consider why that might be. It wasn’t too difficult to define as he acknowledged the third person in this story, haunting them both and turning every encounter into an uneasy exchange.

He waited until she was seated, watching her fiddle with the folds of her skirt before she clasped her hands together in her lap and fixed soft brown eyes on him.

All the fine words he’d considered flew out of his head and he sighed. “You love Lancelot, don’t you?”

Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip before she found her voice. “I don’t know what to say. I care so much for you, Arthur, you know that.”

“I do, Guinevere.” Somehow he found a smile. “You would have made a wonderful Queen for Camelot, but you deserve your happiness, and a kingdom would never be enough. You’ve never sought status or power; what you want is love. Your kind heart and your care for me have led you down this path but I’m not the man you want, am I?”

“Arthur,” she stared at him as if she’d never really seen him before and there was something in her expression which made him clear his throat.

“Well, anyway, I just thought we should – or you should – well.” He ground to a halt as her hand covered her mouth and her eyes twinkled. He couldn’t stop his own sheepish grin, and she chuckled as she stood.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “It would have been an honour to be your Queen – and I do love you, never doubt that.”

“But you love me as a Prince.” Arthur had found the distinction and sighed when she nodded her acknowledgment, as if perhaps she, too, had just recognised the difference.

“I’m not like Merlin,” she said. “He sees you – Arthur – the fact you’re a Prince isn’t really important to him.”

Arthur snorted. “Clearly.” He frowned at the thought, realising the truth in her words.

She looked as if she wanted to say more, but instead she kissed his cheek again and by the time Arthur had recovered from his own moment of introspection, she had slipped away. With a sigh, he moved to his desk and tried to turn his concentration to matters of state.

When Merlin returned, he cast one sharp, assessing glance at Arthur and busied himself in silent preparations for the rest of the day. Arthur was glad enough for his forbearance, though he noted the occasional lapses when Merlin didn’t think Arthur would notice; the moments when Merlin stared into space, his features troubled and unhappy.

Arthur didn’t know what to do or say, feeling weighed down by his own concerns and, lacking any understanding of Merlin’s particular problems, he lapsed into a silence of his own. For once, the silence did not bring comfort and Arthur could feel a tension between them. Brooding, he stared down at the papers and searched for any way to lighten the atmosphere.

Merlin eventually broke the silence.

“Is everything well between you and Guinevere?”

Arthur looked up. “Everything is fine.”

“Oh, it’s just – she looked like she’d been crying.”

“We had a difficult conversation.”

A long silence followed and Arthur watched as Merlin attempted to find the words to ask but not ask what he obviously wanted to know. Eventually, he took pity on him.

“Guinevere and I will not wed.” Arthur turned to the window, staring out at the courtyard below. He heard Merlin move to stand beside him.

“But why? She’d be a wonderful queen and you – you love her.”

Arthur noticed the way Merlin’s tone changed from indignant to something rather sad at the end.

He threw down his pen, ignoring the spatter of ink across the document he’d been in the process of signing.

“Don’t pretend you’re a fool, Merlin. You know why.”

“Your father – “

“It’s got nothing to do with my father – and you know it.” Arthur got to his feet, unable to stay still, and he paced across to the window to peer out at the courtyard below. “She loves Lancelot and Lancelot will make her happy in ways I never can. He will put her first. With me, Camelot would always take that place.”

“She knows that – “

Arthur shook his head. “In her head, perhaps, but her heart would always expect more than I could give her. You’re right, she would have made an excellent Queen, but I would have made her a poor husband. I care about her enough to wish better for her.”

“Arthur –“

Merlin’s voice caught and suddenly he was close, his hand in the centre of Arthur’s back in a touch that had become so familiar and so welcome.

Arthur accepted the comfort offered for a moment, before he turned and set his own hand on Merlin’s shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m fine, Merlin, but I don’t want to speak of this again. It is done.” How could he explain that he was not heart-broken, as Merlin seemed to expect. On the contrary, he felt released in some way; free from an expectation and an alliance that some part of him knew instinctively would have been disastrous for all.

Merlin pursed his lips together, then shrugged and nodded.

They stood together, shoulders touching, and watched the life of the castle below. Merlin spoke from time to time, offering his own comments and insights on what they could see, but mostly they stood in silence; a silence that once more seemed to bring them both comfort.

Morgana called out protesting into the night against something so horrible the nightmare woke her. She sat up, pulling the cover around her as she tried desperately to stop herself shivering.

After a few moments the door opened and Morgause entered, leaning heavily on the stick she now used.

“Morgana, my dear. Another nightmare?”

Morgana nodded and leaned into the comfort Morgause offered as she sat on the bed and pulled her into an embrace.

“Can you remember anything about it?”

Morgana shook her head, unable to make sense of the flashing images but still shaken by the sense of dread and the overwhelming knowledge that something terrible l was going to happen.

“Try to think, dearest. Any detail might help us.”

The nightmares had been increasing in regularity and power over the weeks since they’d escaped Camelot. Morgana knew Morgause was becoming more concerned as time passed. She had a seer’s gift – or curse -, but even with Morgause’s tutelage, her power was still raw and unfocused. She was yet to be able to focus her power enough as she dreamt to try and gain any clarity from them. All she knew was that they were getting worse.

Morgana struggled to make sense of the images that had flashed through her mind, trying to hold onto anything, even as it faded from her mind.

“Red and silver. I saw a narrow red and silver ribbon, green behind it and black; absolute black in front of it. The red and silver was trying to stop the black but it was fading.”

She sobbed. “There should have been gold. The gold was missing and – the magic.” It washed over her, the realisation and the horror. “All the magic was gone. The red and silver was – I think it was Camelot and the magic should have been helping them. But how can that possibly be so? How could magic possibly help Camelot?”

Morgause stared at Morgana, her features troubled.

“There must be someone in Camelot with magic who is helping Arthur. I have been considering it for some time. Otherwise, how could Camelot have prevailed against us and against the magical attacks Arthur has endured.”

“They are traitors, then.” Morgana felt the fury flow over her, a tide of anger and betrayal.

“Perhaps,” Morgause was thoughtful. “Perhaps not. Whoever it was helped us, too. They wouldn’t stand aside and let us die, though it would have been the obvious thing to do. We had taken Camelot and whoever it was fought beside Arthur. They should have been glad to see us dead.”

“Who could it be? Gaius?”

Morgause shook her head. “Gaius practiced sorcery in the past, but he never had that much power.”

“One of the knights, perhaps?”

“No, oh,” Morgause laughed softly. “Of course, it’s so obvious, isn’t it? Our meddling boy, the power behind the Prince. The one person everyone always overlooks. Why else would he try to poison you? He must have learned you were the focus of the spell when the Knights of Medhir attacked.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. She thought of the voice that had spoken to her; the soft apology, the casual use of power, the gold that should have been standing between black and red and silver.

Merlin.

Merlin wasn’t sure when he first noticed something going wrong. There was so much to do and so much to think about that the odd fluctuations in his power seemed mere hiccups. The occasional odd weather and minor shaking of the earth had hardly registered after the first few times it happened. People seemed to have become used to the odd shudder under their feet or a fast moving storm. When it appeared no harm resulted from these occurrences, everyone relaxed. Too many people were still rebuilding or coming to terms with what had happened during the battle to take much notice.

Now, however, Merlin had to accept there was something strange going on. He stared in some consternation at the plant in front of him. He was still staring when Gaius walked into the room, rifling through his bag as he entered.

“Merlin, my boy, have you seen –.“ He looked up and gaped.

With good reason, Merlin considered, as Gaius came to stand beside him and together they regarded the yarrow plant in front of them.

After a few moments, Gaius turned to Merlin and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Merlin had long since learned to interpret Gaius’ famous looks. “You told me to practice small spells to get control, remember. I know you’ve been trying to grow some of your herbs here through the winter and I thought the yarrow was looking a bit sickly so I tried to help it a little.”

“A little? Merlin!”

The yarrow had broken its pot on its way from a rather sad looking seedling to a three-foot high robust plant in full flower. As they watched, it overbalanced and tumbled off the shelf onto the floor.

“I didn’t do the spell wrong, Gaius, I swear,” Merlin kept his voice low. “I had the control – I know I did.”

Gaius sighed. “I know, Merlin. I’ve seen your work recently, and you are much more focussed and aware of how to use your magic.”

Merlin felt his cheeks become warm at the unexpected praise, before he sighed. “There’s something wrong with my magic… I think.”

“Well, let’s deal with the yarrow first, then we can talk about it. We can’t let anyone see the plant like that, so let’s put it all to use as quickly as we can, shall we.”

By the time Gaius had several pots of paste for wounds, small bottles of cough tincture and leaves tied up in bunches to dry for tea, Merlin had to rush to gather up Arthur’s midday meal. With Gaius’ admonition not to use his magic at all, he set off at a run to the kitchen, tearing through the corridors and hardly noticing the tremor in the stone under his feet.

There had thankfully been no council session that morning and Arthur had spent the morning working in the town with the knights. Merlin was pleased, because it usually meant Arthur would be more relaxed. Increasingly, the council chamber was becoming a hostile and tense place and Arthur was spending much of his time trying to keep the peace. It was as if the nobles sensed a weakness in Uther, despite his apparent return to full strength, and every day there were new factions and minor squabbles.

When Merlin entered the room, Arthur was at his desk, frowning down at a document. Merlin deposited the tray on the table in as noisy a manner as he could manage, gratified by Arthur’s snort of amusement.

“Do come in, Merlin,” he said.

Merlin grinned at him. “I’ve brought your lunch.”

“Really?” Arthur cast a comprehensive glance at the tray. “I would never have guessed.” With a final look at the parchment, he tossed it aside and walked over. He gestured Merlin towards a seat, poured a drink for them both and divvied up the food on the tray, pushing a portion across to Merlin.

“How are the repairs?” Merlin asked through a mouthful of bread and chicken.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the lack of manners but didn’t comment. “Everything is water tight, at least. I’ve arranged work gangs, rather than everyone trying to work on their own and we’ve got a plan. That should move things along much faster.”

Merlin wondered why Arthur flushed, until he realised he was beaming at him, expressing the pride he was feeling at Arthur’s care for his people and his ability to get them to rally round and work together. He returned his attention to his plate, feeling the heat rise to his own cheeks and after a moment Arthur took up his account again.

Morgause stirred the pot in front of her, wincing a little as she shifted her weight. The injuries from the battle in Camelot were slow to heal, and she knew enough to recognise that something inside her had been damaged beyond repair. The disruption in the magic around them meant she did not dare attempt any healing spells, although she was not sure magic would be enough even if she could trust it. Despite her own injuries, her major concern remained Morgana as she watched her wear thin and pale with eyes shadowed through lack of sleep trying to keep the visions at bay.

As she thought of her, Morgana entered with a blanket wrapped closely around her and Morgause could have wept at the ruin she had become. In a moment of bitter regret, she acknowledged that some of this was her doing. The figure approaching the table now was a far cry from the polished, poised woman Morgause had first met. The beautiful silks and satins had been replaced with serviceable black wool, worn by them both, and neither had been able to wash their hair or bathe properly since they had come to this place. Not for the first time, Morgause asked herself if her actions had been worth the cost. Today, however, she knew what her response was.

“Come and sit, dearest, I found some honey this morning and I’ve added it to the tea. It will warm you.”

Morgana managed a smile for her and settled carefully at the table, letting out a quiet sigh, shutting her eyes for a moment.

Morgause served the tea and joined Morgana at the table, taking care not to let her own pain and discomfort show, though Morgana frowned as Morgause had to lean heavily on the rough wood when she lowered herself.

“The dreams are becoming worse?”

Morgana nodded, listless, staring at her hands cupped around the tea.

“I have been thinking of what we should do – of what we must do.”

Morgana looked up at that, her brow furrowed.  
“What do you mean?”

“Your dreams are prophetic, Morgana, but they are a sign of what may be, not what will be. Sometimes meddling is the very thing that brings the event to reality, which is why in the past Seers were taken to the Isle of the Blessed as soon as their gifts manifested; to provide them with help in honing their craft. I have been able to help you with your magic but there is not much I can do to help you with your visions. I have considered doing nothing, letting what will be be, but your dreams are becoming worse – not easing. And our magic is erratic. It is not acting as it should. We need help.”

“Help? Who could possibly?” Her head shot up and suddenly Morgana was more alert than she’d been for some time. “You can’t mean – Merlin?” Her mouth twisted as she said his name.

Morgause considered her for a few moments, before she sighed. “Did you know that the Knights of Medhir would have killed everyone?”

The utter shock in Morgana’s face was enough of an answer.

“I asked you if you were willing to do anything to get rid of Uther, and when you agreed I cast the spell that would put everyone in the Castle to sleep. You were the focus of the spell, Morgana. I took your hate and used it against them. I don’t know how Merlin discovered how to break the curse, but he took the only action he could. Killing you was only one of two ways it could be stopped. As the spell-caster, I could do it. When I found you both, he was holding you and weeping. He struck the bargain with me – I would remove the spell and he would tell me the name of the poison he’d used on you. I should have realised he had power then, but I was too afraid for you.”

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this now – after all this time.”

“Look at us, Morgana. Look at what we have become. We are priestesses of the Old Religion and yet we have no faith. In the past, we were founts of wisdom, revered and respected. We did not wage war. I lost my way and have dragged you down into the depths with me. I manipulated you and I played on your hatred of Uther.” She stopped and sighed. Some of her other thoughts from pain-filled, sleepless nights returned to her now, but knew better than to mention the one uppermost in her mind – Morgana’s long memory and ability to hold a grudge was a legacy of her real father.

“We have a choice to make, Morgana. Either we step aside and let whatever comes destroy Camelot, Albion and all of us – or we make our peace and work with Arthur and Merlin.”

“No!” Morgana pushed herself up and away from the table. “Never. I will never forgive them.” Her features were set in harsh lines, marring her underlying beauty, and her fists were clenched.

“Forgive them for what? I’ve explained why Merlin did what he did. Do you believe he had a choice? What else had they done up until that point that would make you hate them?”

Morgana opened her mouth to reply, but didn’t speak and in the end she turned away, leaving Morgause alone.

Morgause put her head in her hands. She’d said all she could say – if she tried again then Morgana, stubborn and wilful, would refuse to listen and would draw away from her.

She waited.

Morgana made her way slowly to the top of the ruined battlements, picking her way over fallen rocks until she found a spot that provided some shelter against the winter wind. Shivering, she pulled her cloak around her, fingers catching on the rough wool, and stared out in the direction of Camelot.

For well over a year thoughts of revenge had driven her. Every story Morgause had told her of Uther’s iniquities she had been eager to hear; every spell with the potential to rain down destruction upon him, she’d been eager to learn. There was no doubt she had been an easy foil for Morgause’s own hunger for retribution and together they had honed their hate. Morgana wasn’t sure when the focus had shifted from Uther to Arthur, but in the early months of her time with Morgause, she hadn’t thought of taking the throne at all. When had they – Morgause and Cenred – decided that, she wondered?

In the past weeks, the dreams had chipped away at her as she became fearful of the dark and fearful for the silver and red line that stood against the danger. Now she deliberately thought about Arthur, knowing he would always be at the vanguard of any defence of Camelot.

Camelot.

Her home.

She wanted to be angry at Morgause, at the manipulation and the lies, but the growing fear had left her reliant on her sister. Despite the revelations of the day, she loved Morgause and knew they shared a genuine bond. It didn’t take away from the realisation that she had been a pawn; she could see that now. She had been trapped in a battle between a black king and a white queen and now it was time to choose her own way. The first few flakes of snow settled gently on her cloak and she turned away towards the stairs, ignoring the slight shaking of the ground.

Morgause was sitting at the table where she had been when Morgana left and she felt a twist of alarm at the pain Morgause could never hide for long. She was alive though, and would not have been but for Merlin.

“How can we make them listen to us?”

Merlin had been so careful. Since his conversation with Gaius, he hadn’t used his magic at all, though he became increasingly aware of it churning uneasily within him. There was no doubt it itched to be set free, but after his experience with the yarrow plant, Merlin admitted he was too scared to try anything; certainly not while he was within Camelot’s walls and Uther was becoming more insistent in his decree that they search for Morgana and Morgause. As each day passed Uther's focus narrowed to that and his ever more furious rants on the evils of magic were leaving everyone nervous. Arthur was becoming silent and withdrawn, his own temper on a knife-edge. Merlin knew he was trying not to take it out on him, something new and worthy of consideration in itself at any other time. Now, though, as both of them struggled with their own troubles there was little comfort for either of them.

It should have been a simple matter to set the tray on the table, but he’d caught his foot against the leg of a chair and stumbled. The tray tipped, everything on it slid precariously and further unbalanced it. Merlin managed to get it onto the tabletop with a clatter that turned Arthur’s attention to him, and as the pottery bowl caught on the lip of the tray and tumbled off, Merlin reached out to catch it.

There had been no thought in his mind to use magic, but it surged within him as he shot out his hand. Afterwards, there was a long silence, broken only by their breathing, a matching harshness expressing shock.

Merlin stared, aghast, at the ruin of the bowl: it wasn’t just in shards, parts of it were reduced to dust. He looked up, and knew the little colour he had was draining from his face. The worst thing, he thought, was the utter and complete betrayal on Arthur’s face.

“Arthur, please,” he said, and swallowed hard when Arthur flinched as he held up his hands in entreaty. “Please let me explain – “

Arthur shook his head and when he spoke his tone was cold and even. “You have served me for years. Gods know what damage you have done in that time –“

Merlin wanted to interrupt, to tell Arthur about all the times he’d saved him, saved Camelot, and then he remembered Morgana and the dragon and had to close his eyes against the guilt and grief.

Arthur raised his chin and his mouth worked for a moment. There was silence for a time and all Merlin could do was wait. When Arthur spoke again, he surprised Merlin. Clearly he’d been re-evaluating some of their close shaves in the past.

“I can’t deny that you’ve saved my life more than once. Because of that, I will give you until the morning to gather your belongings and leave Camelot. If I see you again, I will kill you.”

A shudder passed through Merlin. “Please, Arthur – “

“Do not use my name.” Arthur spat the words out. “Do not speak again in my presence. In fact – get out.”

There was nothing to be done. Stumbling a little, Merlin turned away. He paused and looked back when he opened the door, searching for any words that might make a difference, but Arthur had turned his back on him. Merlin hesitated for another moment and then silently slipped through, shutting the door carefully behind him.

In a daze, he made his way through the castle corridors and up to Gaius’ chambers. The scent of the herbs and lotions and the sound of Gaius working used to be enough to soothe Merlin, but today he didn’t even notice them as he walked through and up the short flight of steps to his own small room. Staring around, he swallowed hard and slumped down onto the bed to bury his head in his hands.

“Merlin, I need you to get – “Gaius was at the door but his voice tailed away into silence. After a long pause, he asked. “What’s wrong, my boy?”

“Arthur knows.”

Their breathing seemed loud in the moments that followed, while the muted sounds of Camelot going about its normal day drifted up from the town below and mocked them. How could life go on when his world had just fallen apart? 

“I need to be out of Camelot by morning. He’s banished me.” Merlin could hardly get the words out past the blockage in his throat.

Gaius sank down to sit beside him. “I expect he’s angry.”

“You have no idea. I’m surprised he didn’t have me arrested.”

He finally raised his head when Gaius let loose a weak chuckle.

“Oh, dear boy, despite how angry Arthur feels right now, he could never hurt you. He might, however, toss you into a dungeon until he gets over it. You do need to leave for a while. But you’ll be back.”

“How can you be so sure? You didn’t see the way he looked at me –“ Merlin stopped and swallowed.

Gaius slid an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Listen to me, Merlin,” and his voice became firmer, though it didn’t lose its sympathetic tone. “You and Arthur have a destiny, it’s true, but more than that you’re friends who have stood by one another and cared for one another for years. Arthur feels betrayed, and that’s understandable. It will take some time, but he will come round.”

With a final pat to Merlin’s shoulder, he heaved himself to his feet. “In the meantime, you need to work out what’s happening with your magic.”

“I know that, but I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start where they say magic began. You need to go to the Crystal Cave.”

Merlin shuddered. “I hate that place. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to find it.”

“It is the source of your power, Emrys. You will always be able to find your way.”

Merlin looked up in surprise. Gaius had never addressed him as Emrys. Gaius’ mouth was set in a straight line while his shoulders were stooped, his age settling heavily on him.

“What if Morgana and Morgause do something while I’m away? How can I protect Arthur if I’m not here?” Merlin twisted his fingers in the bedding, biting at his lip.

“We will all do our best to keep Arthur safe. I’ll send Gwaine out to find you if I’m concerned. My promise on it. Now see if you can get some rest before you set off on your journey.”

Merlin hardly knew what to think or feel, there was so much flooding through him. Part of him was angry at Arthur, but there was guilt, grief and worry for his prince all mixed in and he couldn’t navigate his way through it. Gaius was right though, even before the shattering events in Arthur’s chambers, it had been a long, exhausting day. Despite his roiling, seething emotions, he knew he needed to sleep for a little time at least.

When Gaius shook him awake a few hours later, Merlin was surprised how easily he’d found it to slip into unconsciousness. It at least had the benefit of shutting out his situation and the memory of Arthur’s expression for a little while. In the first moments after waking, he’d been confused, wondering what had happened before the memories flooded back all too soon.

He managed a smile for Gaius, drew in a deep, shuddering breath and grabbed his pack, hauling out the warmest clothes he could find. Winter had not yet eased its grip and it was still cold at nights. While he could normally have kept himself warm with the aid of his magic, at the moment it was far too unreliable to trust.

"I'll see what supplies the kitchen can offer and get us some breakfast."

Merlin wanted to say he didn't think he'd be able to eat at all, but the expression on Gaius' face suggested argument would be pointless, so he nodded instead. For a moment after Gaius had gone, he let his despair take him, before he scrubbed resolutely at his face and began to gather what he would need.

Percival’s voice pulled him from his preparations. Plastering on a smile, he headed out into the main chamber.

“Percival, do you need to see Gaius? He’ll be back shortly.”

“No, Merlin.”

Percival was still shy around the knights and nobles of Camelot, but he and Merlin had swiftly become friends. Merlin was glad he had the opportunity to say goodbye. He could pass a message to Gwaine and Lancelot, too, he realised. He couldn’t go and see them, it would put them in too much danger.

He was drawn from his thoughts as Percival continued.

“Prince Arthur told me you’re travelling to Ealdor to see your mother. He asked me to give you these.”

Merlin was too shocked to respond as a bubble of hope joined the swirling emotions he was currently experiencing. Instead, he reached out and accepted the bundle, unravelling a good thick woollen blanket to discover a fine, fur-lined cape, a sturdy pair of boots with the same lining, a dagger and sheath that Merlin recognised as Arthur’s and a pair of gloves.

“You’ll protect him while I’m away?”

“With my life. You have my oath.”

There was no mockery in Percival’s voice, no jest about Merlin’s unspoken inference that Merlin protected Arthur, and when he looked up, there was something in Percival’s steadfast expression that had him swallowing hard. He managed to provide messages for his friends and then Percival was gone, with a parting admonishment to take care on his travels and return safely.

Merlin was still staring at the bundle when Gaius returned. How could Arthur, even in the midst of his anger and betrayal, still be so generous and considerate? It wasn’t only the warm clothes, it was also the oblique reassurance that Hunith was safe.

“Merlin?”

“Arthur sent them.” He managed a smile for Gaius then.

Gaius returned the smile. “That’s not all. They were already putting provisions together for you and your mare is being saddled. Arthur may have banished you, but he would not see you come to harm.”

“He was so angry when I left him.”

“Arthur’s always been the same, you know that. He cools quickly and is a great deal more forgiving than many give him credit for.”

“Do you think he could ever forgive Morgana?”

That seemed to surprise Gaius. “I don’t know – before the occupation of Camelot I would have said yes, but now?” He shook his head. “I think he would want to find a way to have peace, but forgiveness? Why do you ask?”

Merlin shrugged his shoulders. “I’d better get going. Arthur may have arranged all of this simply to ensure there weren’t too many questions about me leaving. I daren’t risk him seeing me here one moment later than he gave me.”

There were few words after that, merely an embrace where Merlin clung to Gaius for long moments before pattering down the stairs and out towards the stables. He strapped his provisions to the saddle of the mare waiting for him, slinging his new cloak around him before he took the reins. Leading her across the courtyard he paused, looking up at Arthur’s window and, despite being in full view and the current lack of reliability of his magic, he whispered a quiet spell of protection. For a moment he thought he saw movement at the window, but then the mare snuffled at his hair, nudging him in her sweet, friendly fashion, and he turned away.

Arthur had slept badly, perturbed by odd dreams and a sense of foreboding, so dealing with disgruntled knights was not high on the list of things he wanted to be faced with first thing in the morning.

“What’s happened? Where’s Merlin?”

This would seem to be his lot, however, so Arthur closed his eyes briefly and then turned to face the phalanx of knights converging upon him. His men; men he’d chosen. The only one of that group missing was Leon, still travelling the countryside giving Arthur’s message to the Druids he could find. One of the reasons for choosing these men, he acknowledged, was that every one of them would challenge him, whether in training or in council, and would question his actions. One of the many things Merlin – and Arthur had to suppress a wince at the thought of him – had taught him was the value of healthy debate and the honesty of his friends. These men were not like his father’s knights, they would not blindly follow him, nor would they support him or allow him to do any calamitous acts. Arthur had done enough of that himself, believing his father’s, his King’s, every word about magic, about its evils and how even possessing magic would corrupt.

There were occasions, however, when he rather wished he’d followed his father’s ways.

Gwaine was leading the delegation, his mouth a thin, grim line. Curious, Arthur scanned the features of the others. Elyan looked concerned, Percival worried and then there was Lancelot, who made Arthur draw in a sharp breath. Lancelot looked as if every one of his worst fears had been realised.

Arthur stared straight at Lancelot until he met Arthur’s eyes. Arthur noted how Lancelot started slightly under his gaze and then bowed his head as if trying to hide the thoughts that had been playing out on his face.

“Merlin is visiting his mother.”

“Now? In the middle of winter? And anyway, Merlin wouldn’t leave your side if there wasn’t a better reason than that.”

Gwaine possessed a naturally suspicious nature and it was in evidence now. The inference that Merlin wouldn’t leave him unless forced to was not lost on Arthur and was something he’d acknowledged in the middle of a dark night.

He’d acknowledged many things in the depths of his sleepless night, chief amongst them was the root of all his betrayal and pain had nothing at all to do with the magic. In one way, learning Merlin had magic made so much sense he’d wondered how he could possibly have missed it. Before he could accept why he felt betrayed he had to realise that before he’d come to know Merlin so well, he wasn’t sure how he would have reacted had he learned the truth in the beginning.

Merlin had changed him, and the change was nothing to do with magic and everything to do with Merlin’s belief in him. In the early hours he’d thought of Merlin’s horror when the dish shattered, understanding the loss of control had frightened him. Whatever Arthur thought, he wouldn’t be able to protect Merlin if something like that happened in front of witnesses. Merlin had to leave, at least for a time. He’d made his own preparations then, doing everything he could short of talking to Merlin – he wasn’t ready for that. He may understand, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still feeling the hurt and sting of betrayal.

The men were waiting for his response.

“Merlin will return.” It was all he was prepared to say to them as a group. “Gwaine, I’m aware you’re all due on the training field. It does our people good to see routine return as soon as possible. Please take Elyan and Percival with you and join the others. I’ll be with you shortly. Lancelot.” Arthur ignored Gwaine’s muttering and stopped Lancelot as he turned away with the others.

“With me,” Arthur said and he led the way back to his own chambers, waiting until the doors were closed then moved across to the window to ensure no-one standing close to the doors could overhear them. He glanced out at the bustling courtyard and thought of Merlin leaving earlier, remembering how he’d rolled his eyes when Merlin had looked up at his window and spoken, and how even with distance, Arthur had seen the golden flash. A warmth had washed over him, leaving behind a sense of well-being and strength, with undertones of sorrow, guilt and – well – other emotions Arthur was less inclined to acknowledge for the moment.

He heaved a sigh and turned to face Lancelot.

“You know.”

Fortunately for Arthur’s frayed temper Lancelot didn’t attempt to dissemble.

“He enchanted my spear when I fought the griffin – otherwise I would never have been able to kill it. I found out by accident, he didn’t tell me.”

Arthur wondered how Lancelot had known the last comment would make him feel better.

“Has he spoken to you recently about – you know?”

Lancelot’s mouth twitched. “He confided in me that things had become somewhat erratic and he was concerned he might lose control.”

“He did. And if that had happened in front of my father.” They exchanged a grim look and there was nothing further to be said.

“I’ve banished him.”

“Sire –“

Arthur held up his hands. “I was angry enough to mean it when I said it, but it’s for the best. He can’t stay here.”

“He won’t willingly go far from you.”

“Which is why I need you to go after him and stop him from doing anything too stupid.” He looked up then and was surprised to see a look on Lancelot’s face he couldn’t decipher.

“Is something wrong?”

“Merlin means a great deal to you.”

The wash of emotion from Merlin’s incautious spell had clarified things for Arthur, even if he didn’t particularly feel able to acknowledge the implications just yet. He shook his head. This formed part of a conversation Arthur had been meaning to have with Lancelot ever since he’d spoken to Gwen. He rather hoped the two of them had gone ahead and sorted things out for themselves, but clearly Guinevere had yet to speak to him.

“There’s no time for this now, Lancelot, but I promise we’ll talk again soon.” Arthur stared out at the courtyard and prayed Lancelot would not force the issue just yet, not when he hadn’t had the time to really accept what he now knew to be true. The weight of Lancelot’s stare was almost palpable, but at last there was a sigh.

“Do you really think he’s gone to Ealdor?”

Arthur turned to face him, his own doubt was mirrored in Lancelot’s expression. “I have no idea where he might be going.”

“Gaius may know more – and even if he doesn’t, Merlin’s never that difficult to track down.”

There was a moment when the atmosphere lightened and they grinned at one another, before Lancelot seemed to recall just exactly to whom he was talking. With a low bow, he took his leave and Arthur returned to his contemplation before deciding to put his new knowledge aside for the moment and followed his knights to the training ground.

Lancelot made his way through the town, leading his horse and stopping a time or two to talk with people he recognised. A number of the knights had spent some of their spare time helping with the rebuilding. It had started with Percival and Elyan, the closest of them all to their roots. Elyan had fired up his father’s forge and mended ironwork, made new locks and latches, while Perciva used his strength to move wood and stone. Some of the older knights sneered a little, but the following day, after training, Lancelot, Gwaine and Leonheaded for the town. The next day Arthur, with a proud, grinning Merlin in tow, led the company into the town. After that, no-one sneered and most took their turn. Lancelot had no doubt at all Arthur noted who did what, how much, and how willingly.

It had the effect of raising morale as well as raising roofs, of forging closer bonds between castle and town, and Lancelot saw it as the foundation of a new Camelot with a new King, though that was a thought he kept to himself. For now, he contented himself with exchanging greetings and passing the time of day until at last he hesitated outside a well-known door.

It was with a certain amount of trepidation that he tapped on the wood and wondered whether he’d be glad if Guinevere was not present. Still, he couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure when her sweet voice called out a greeting and the door opened. The breath caught in Lancelot’s throat at the sight of her.

As she saw him, her cheeks flushed a pretty colour and she reached out to touch his sleeve.

“Lancelot, what brings you to my door?”

“May I enter?”

“Of course.”

He waited until he’d followed her in and the door was shut again before he spoke.

“Merlin has gone to visit his mother,” he said. Lancelot hated having to lie to her, but this was a secret not his to share. “Arthur has asked me to go with him to ensure his safety. I didn’t want to leave without seeing you first.” He paused. There had been a terse exchange between them some days earlier when he’d finally acknowledged he’d been wrong to disappear in the night as he had done and how much those actions had hurt her. He would have given way to Arthur had he been sure Arthur truly loved her, but he’d spent too much time watching Arthur and Merlin together.

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure, but Guinevere, I will return.”

She smiled at him then and her hand cupped his cheek for a moment.

“Good.”

Even with his head full of Guinevere’s smile, he couldn’t miss Merlin’s trail. Wherever he was heading, it certainly wasn’t towards Ealdor. He didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry and Lancelot picked up his pace slightly, reckoning he’d be able to catch up to him by the end of the day.

He was right. The winter sun was just dipping below the horizon when he saw clear and recent signs of a horse and rider. Grinning, he increased his pace and then, when everything suddenly seemed a little too quiet, he recalled he was tailing a powerful sorcerer and he thought to call out to his friend.

It was a wise move, although he was nearly unseated as his horse shied when Merlin stepped out the trees. Lancelot gentled his horse, however it was hardly necessary because the moment the mare recognised Merlin she moved towards him with a quiet whicker of welcome.

Lancelot grinned at Merlin as the mare snuffled at Merlin’s pockets. As if by magic – and who knows, perhaps it was – a couple of pieces of carrot appeared. Lancelot chuckled, judging by the fluff coating them, they’d obviously been in Merlin’s pockets for a while rather than suddenly being magicked into existence, but the mare didn’t seem to mind, crunching them with every sign of enjoyment.

“I suppose Arthur sent you.”

“Of course he did, Merlin. He’s concerned about you.”

Merlin huffed a little but there was a lift to his mouth and a softness in his expression giving away more than he’d probably be comfortable with. Given his own situation, Lancelot decided not to tease.

“You’re not going to Ealdor?”

Merlin shook his head. “I’ve set up camp a little way ahead. Let’s get settled and I’ll tell you all I know.”

Lancelot followed him, dismounting to lead the mare through the thickening forest. It must be my imagination, he thought, as the trees appeared to shift and move, opening up before them until they entered a clearing with a small spring bubbling round the far side. It was beautiful, and slightly otherworldly. A fire was burning steadily, giving no smoke, and a couple of rabbits were roasting. The crackle of the fire and the occasional hiss as fat from the rabbit dripped into the flames, were the only sounds.

What comforted Lancelot more than anything were the horses, who exchanged the greetings of old friends and then began to graze, completely at ease. There was nothing here that worried them, and Lancelot had a healthy regard for the instincts of his horse. He raised his eyebrows at Merlin, who merely shrugged in response, and set about removing tack and bedroll.

They didn’t speak until the rabbit had been eaten and they were sipping at warm cider, a flagon of which Arthur had seen fit to add to the provisions he’d organised for Merlin. Lancelot hid a smile. The fact that sweet cider made from the trees in the castle’s orchard was a favourite of Merlin’s was known to them all – including Arthur it seemed.

It was left to Lancelot to break the silence.

“So, Arthur knows.”

“He banished me.”

Lancelot wondered if Merlin could hear the hurt in his own voice. “He sent you to safety,” he said.

Merlin looked up then, his eyes full of surprise, and then he glanced down at the wooden cup with its measure of cider and smiled a little.

“Gaius sent me in this direction – but it certainly isn’t the way to Ealdor. He thought I should go to the Crystal Cave – the place where magic came from – to find out what’s going wrong with it.”

“Is everyone’s magic affected?”

Merlin shrugged. “Gaius said his doesn’t feel right, but I don’t exactly know many magic users to ask. There are so many odd things happening though and it feels like they’re all connected in some way.”

“Do you know how to get to this Crystal Cave?”

“Oh yes, I know how to get there.”

Merlin shivered and pulled the cloak around him and Lancelot reverted to talking of his favourite subject: Guinevere.

They set off at first light the following morning, the air too cold to dally. Muffled in their cloaks, they did not speak much as Merlin led the way. Just as Gaius had predicted, there was no doubt in his mind he was heading in the right direction. Beyond stopping briefly to eat some cured meat and break the ice on a small pond for them all to drink, they didn’t stop, pushing on until the lowering sky brought an early dusk.

They broke through a line of trees and found themselves in a small glade which looked remarkably similar to the one they had left that morning. Merlin glanced around, frowning a little, but could offer nothing other than a shrug in response to Lancelot’s raised eyebrows.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Merlin swung himself off his horse and stamped his feet a little to get the feeling back. There was enough cover here to keep the ground clear of frost and snow, and even grass to satisfy the horses. Working in a companionable silence, they untacked and checked their mounts before Lancelot headed out to see what game he could find and Merlin gathered up the wood for a fire. He frowned again as he tested it, wondering how it could be so dry.

The night was quiet and still, and while it remained cold the fire gave enough steady heat to keep them comfortable. Merlin was grateful the wood seemed to be slow burning. While he chewed one plump piece of pheasant, he tried not to think too hard about game tending to be leaner around this time of year, and that their small stack of wood was lasting such a long time.

Despite his growing unease, he managed to sleep well until he woken in the early morning by Lancelot’s touch. One gloved hand covered his mouth to keep him silent, while the other shook his shoulder.

Merlin blinked up at him, hearing the horses’ unsettled movement before he heard something else in the distance. It sounded like a large creature crashing through the undergrowth and most definitely heading in their direction. He squeezed Lancelot’s arm and scrambled to his feet as quietly as possible.

They didn’t attempt to take the horses with them, just left their camp to make their way as swiftly and silently as possible towards the noise. A roar rippled through the air, almost drowning out the sound of a man’s voice shouting. Alarmed, they picked up their pace, abandoning the attempt to be quiet.

Merlin couldn’t entirely say for sure what he could see at as they burst into a clearing and were faced with something spawned from a particularly nasty nightmare. They stumbled to a halt, gaping at the huge, scaled body, horned head and wicked claws. It stood on two legs and was taller than any man. In all his time poring over books of magic and magical creatures, Merlin had never seen anything that came close to this.

A flash of red caught his attention and he realised the size of the creature had been blocking the man beyond it. The red cape helped Merlin recognise a knight of Camelot and he knew they were only moments from death. Lancelot had already pitched forward into the fray, his sword swung high and came down with a clang and a thud. The resultant reverberation causing Lancelot to cry out though the creature hardly seemed to have noticed.

“Merlin!”

Merlin wondered how Lancelot could imbue so much into the way he said his name. Despite his own concerns, he knew he had no other recourse and he threw out his hand to cast a spell in hope he could stop the _thing_ somehow.

His power surged through him, ripping free of him with something that felt like savage, exultant fury, and a golden spear of magic flew through the air to strike the creature.

Without any sound, gold sliced through the beast, it spread and intensified, until it seemed the form could hold no more, then it simply exploded into a mess of ichor, bone and ribbons of tough skin.

Merlin hadn’t yet eaten, and he thanked the Gods for that, because the sudden stench, reminiscent of rot, could have turned the strongest stomach. Lancelot’s reaction assured Merlin he was not alone in his assessment but their rescued knight proved even worse; doubled over and retching. Merlin screwed up his nose as he moved towards him. He saw the poor man had borne the brunt of the monster’s entrails and had ended up covered head to toe in a series of unspeakable elements.

“Merlin.”

The urgency in Lancelot’s tone shook Merlin and it took him a moment to understand why. He had just used powerful magic in front of another knight – and it could not be passed off as anything else. Lancelot’s sword remained in his hand, his expression anguished as he stared at –

The figure uncurled and removed his cloak. Slightly green around the gills and grimacing as he picked bits of creature out of his hair, he said.

“So you would be Emrys, then.”

“Leon!”

While Merlin stood and stared in complete bewilderment, Lancelot stepped forward and extended an arm as if to grip Leon’s, before stuttering to a halt at the state of him.

Leon spared him a brief, tight smile, before turning his attention back to Merlin.

“That’s what the Druids kept calling you, anyway. It took me a while before I worked out who it must be – the other side of the coin, the sorcerer who shares a destiny with the Once and Future King. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Leon,” Lancelot’s tone had changed and he’d drawn off a little, giving himself room to manoeuvre if needed.

Leon raised his eyebrows and snorted at him. “Relax, Lancelot, I don’t mind about the magic.”

“You don’t?” Lancelot and Merlin chorused.

“The Cup of Life saved me, remember?” A shadow crossed his features and Merlin wondered what else he’d been told. The Druids had any number of prophecies, it seemed.

“Besides, I’d already guessed we had a friendly magic-user on our side – too many suspicious falling branches helping us out of tricky situations to be entirely natural.” Leon looked down at himself. “Any chance there’s some water around? I’d really like to try and get some of this off me. I mean, couldn’t you get rid of the thing without all the mess?”

Merlin shrugged. “My magic’s a bit unruly at the moment,” he said.

A moment’s silence followed as it occurred to them all how badly the spell might have gone.

“Well, if you hadn’t turned up I was dead anyway,” Leon said eventually.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can talk,” Lancelot said, and with no small relief, Leon agreed.

It took them some time to get Leon clean, find his horse and calm it, before leading the stallion back to the clearing where Lancelot and Merlin had their camp. Fortunately, the horse had snagged its reins on a tree branch and hadn’t gone too far, but they had to take a wide berth around the location of the monster’s remains as even the scent had the poor animal snorting and shying away.

Lancelot and Leon exchanged amused looks as Merlin looped his arm around the stallion’s nose at one point and pressed it against his shoulder to try and block out the stench. The stallion, generally a grand and stately beast, stood still for Merlin when both Lancelot and Leon had failed to calm it, and the horse had even pushed his nose harder against him, almost pushing Merlin over. Once they were clear of the area and Merlin let him loose, the stallion gave Merlin a friendly nudge and made a beeline for his pockets, nibbling gently on one corner.

Merlin, talking soft nonsense, fished out a slightly mouldy piece of carrot, which the stallion accepted with regal pleasure and they finally made their way back to the camp.

When they returned and the stallion caught the scent of the mares, he soon regained his usual demeanour. In contrast, Leon, Lancelot and Merlin were all still pale and shaken. Leon glanced round curiously at the glade with its bubbling brook and lush, spring-like grass, before he slumped to the ground with a heartfelt groan.

Merlin glanced at his two friends.

“There’s not much point trying to travel today.” They both nodded wearily in agreement and he set about trying to make the most of their provisions. In distinct contrast to Leon and Lancelot, he was full of energy. Over the past weeks, the continued strain of not using his magic, together with the surge in its strength, had been a continual struggle. Finally being able to release some it, despite what it had done, seemed to have eased a pressure within him and he felt more settled and less likely to lose control.

Humming gently to himself, he set the fire and spread out Leon’s washed cloak over some nearby bushes. He popped the leftover carcasses from the previous night’s pheasants into a pot with some water. Plenty of meat on them to make a good broth, he reckoned. He retrieved potatoes and carrots from his pack along with a few handfuls of grain. Once he had achieved a good stock in the pot, he removed the pheasant’s bones, stripping them of any remaining meat and put everything in to cook. When he had finished his preparations, Leon and Lancelot were both dozing by the fire and he grinned before going to check on the horses. As he moved, he cast a small spell to keep the pot bubbling gently, pleased when it worked as planned. As his power increased, it seemed his control did, too. Perhaps he’d been wrong to try not to use it at all.

He shook the knights lightly once their meal had cooked, and they ate in companionable silence. Afterwards, Merlin shared some of the warm sweet cider.

Leon spoke first. “I found Isildir and gave him Arthur’s message. He asked me to travel with him for a week or two, to pass the news onto others. He had other reasons for meeting with the others, too. Apparently everyone has been finding their magic erratic and any of them with the gift of prophecy has been troubled by terrible dreams. When I left him, Isildir said I’d meet Emrys soon and I had to tell him--.” He paused, his brow wrinkling for a moment before he recited.

“Emrys, the Mother is angry and the Gods themselves have transgressed. You must go to the source. Then I told him I didn’t know Emrys and he smiled, saying I’d know him when I saw him.” Leon chuckled. “As it turns out, he was right. Who else knows?”

Merlin looked down and bit his lip.

“Gaius knows and I found out by accident.” Lancelot answered, then after a quick glance at Merlin added, “Arthur knows too.”

“He banished me,” Merlin muttered.

“He sent you away to keep you safe,” Lancelot corrected, and Merlin flushed and shrugged.

Leon raised his eyebrows at Lancelot then changed the subject. “What did Isildir mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Merlin frowned into the fire, watching the flames dance. “I think the source is the Crystal Cave. That’s where we’re heading tomorrow.”

“I’ll travel with you, if I may. I think I’d prefer the company.”

Merlin grinned at him and topped up their mugs with the last of the cider then endured, with good humour, Leon’s questions about the times he’d used his magic.

“Arthur.”

The sight of his sister would have been enough to shock Arthur at the best of times, but seeing her appear on the surface of the water in his basin of washing water came close to stopping his heart for a moment. On top of the shock came mortification at his state of undress and he grabbed for the nearby drying cloth, wrapping it firmly around his middle.

“What do you want?” He cleared his throat when his voice came out higher than expected.

Morgana smirked at him, in an echo of an old rivalry. “Brother, dear. You look tired.”

Arthur, on the other hand, had no time for that, remembering was too painful. “What do you want?”

A flash of something that might have been called distress coloured her expression for a moment.

“We’re in danger.”

“We? What do you mean?”

“I’m a Seer, Arthur. I get visions of what the future might look like. I’ve been dreaming.” She glanced off to the side and said to someone. “He’ll never believe me.”

Morgause, Arthur assumed.

“Get on with it, Morgana. I don’t have all day.”

“I saw destruction, Arthur. I saw a blackness take all of us.”

“You’ve already tried to do that yourself.” Arthur could hear the bitterness in his voice.

She shook her head, but she didn’t attempt to deny it, or to restate her own claim to the throne. “Not just Camelot, Arthur, but all of the five kingdoms and beyond.” She hesitated. “Camelot is the first defence – and it falls because there’s no magic protecting you.”

“You expect me to believe this? How could I possibly believe this is anything other than a trick? You tried to kill us all, Morgana.” He winced at the pain in his voice and saw her flinch. For some reason that, more than anything, made him more inclined to listen.

“There’s something going wrong with magic.” Morgana spoke with reluctance, as if it wasn’t a subject she’d wanted to broach at all.

Arthur thought of the exploding pottery bowl and Merlin’s horrified expression. “Your magic – or everyone’s?”

Morgana looked surprised he might even be willing to discuss it. “Everyone we’ve spoken to. Magic is erratic, it comes and goes, surges and then suddenly disappears. Uther tried to teach us magic was something separate – something evil – but magic is in everything. Magic is part of what makes our world work and without it the cycle of life will fade.”

He was shocked to recognise she was almost pleading with him now.

“What do you expect me to do?” He ignored the mention of Uther, refusing to discuss their father even if he had come to a similar conclusion over the past weeks. This was not something he intended to discuss with her.

“Arthur…” She was hesitating again. “We need to meet.”

“Why? This seems like an infinitely safer way to carry on any discussions – for both of us.” He let the threat hang in the air.

She hesitated again, looking over his shoulder as if searching for –

Betrayal washed over him. She was looking for Merlin. Had she known? Had they been working together?

As quickly as the thought entered his head he banished it. Merlin’s attitude to Morgana had changed after her return and must have been because he suspected her. He closed his eyes briefly. Things could have been so different.

“He’s not here.”

There was a silence.

“You know.”

“Difficult to miss,” Arthur said. “You mentioned magic has been erratic.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Do you care?”

“About Merlin?” She paused, frowning for moment, then shrugged. “Not particularly. But if you’ve had him executed, then all our hope is gone.”

Arthur couldn’t quite get his head round that. “Merlin? You’re saying Merlin has a role to play in this? Merlin who trips over his own feet Merlin?”

“Hard as it is to believe.” Morgana’s tone was dry, but her expression had lifted slightly. “So you haven’t had him killed.”

“You really do have a low opinion of me, don’t you? Despite everything, despite helping you with the Druid boy, you still believe I’d murder my best friend because he has magic?”

There was a long silence.

“No wonder you hate me, if that’s the man you think I am.” As hard as he tried to keep his voice even, he could hear the hitch, the slight tremble, which signalled his hurt. He didn’t want to give Morgana any inclination he still cared what she thought, but it seemed he couldn’t help it. He sighed. “You were a sister to me long before I knew we shared Uther’s blood. I would have protected you with my last breath, Morgana. I would have kept you safe.”

“You would never have been able to keep that promise. Not with Uther on the throne.”

“Then I would have died trying.”

“And what of anyone else who tried to harm me?”

There was a strange note in Morgana’s voice which made Arthur suddenly wary. This was no idle question. He met her gaze dead on.

“Times have changed, Morgana. It would depend why they were trying. Tell me what you did? What were they –“ he paused and barked out a short laugh. “Tell me why Merlin tried to harm you?”

She reeled back and for a moment Arthur thought she’d broken the connection, but she returned after a few moments. Now she looked like the princess she was, her chin raised and expression haughty.

Despite everything, despite what Morgana had done, the sight amused Arthur. This Morgana he knew, a Morgana who’d done wrong but was prepared to bluff it out. Pendragon pride. She was so like their father in so many ways, though he’d sense enough to not utter the comparison aloud. Instead, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a a tacit acknowledgement, an indication to Morgana that he knew what she was about.

She huffed a sigh and shook her head. The moment’s normality cheered Arthur’s heart for some reason, though it couldn’t banish the knowledge of what she had done to their people, to her people, for long.

Typically, she changed the subject. “Where is Merlin?”

“I banished him.”

“Where has he gone?”

“I have no idea – much safer if I don’t know. I sent Lancelot after him.”

“You said he’s your best friend – and yet you banished him.” Morgana looked ready to settle into a rant and he could almost write the content for her.

“He tried to catch something he’d dropped and he blew it up! He could hardly stay in Camelot, could he?” Arthur stopped her before she could really get started. “I did the best thing I could think of to keep him safe.”

“We need him.” She repeated her earlier statement yet now it contained an element of desperation.

“I can’t tell you where he is – and I wouldn’t. I can’t trust you, Morgana, you know I can’t. Not now – not after what you did.”

“Uther doesn’t deserve to rule – “

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to find calm, to speak the words evenly and with control. “You turned your soldiers on the people of Camelot. You murdered those you were sworn to protect. When you took the crown you didn’t just take power. You took responsibility, too – for the land, for the people, for their well-being, protection and succour. I can understand why you wanted to get rid of Uther, I can even understand why you wanted rid of me, given what you think of me, but your people, Morgana, your people. That is the hardest thing to forgive.”

Her head dropped, a curtain of unkempt hair hiding her face.

“I need more proof from you before I could consider believing you. Then, and only then, might I ride out to meet with you and find Merlin together. My head tells me not to trust you, Morgana, but –“

The water rippled and Morgana looked up, suddenly alarmed.

“We can’t hold the scrying spell much longer. Something is happening.”

“Dearest, move away from the water.”

Arthur heard the sound of Morgause’s voice, and the concern in it convinced him.

“Arthur, I think there will be more proof soon than you need. We’ll be at the longstone in the Darkling Woods five days from now.”

“Morgana!”

Morgause sounded alarmed now.

Morgana’s eyes were wild. “Arthur – get away from the water.”

The urgency in her voice propelled him backwards and just in time. The bowl cracked and the water erupted in a boiling geyser.

Arthur spent a long moment staring at the debris. That was either the most elaborate ruse, or Morgana was telling the truth. He stumbled back until the hard edge of a chair hit his knees and he slumped into it, his eyes still fixed on the ruins.

A knock on the door presaged George’s entry. George had been appointed to serve Arthur once Merlin had left, and had proved to be more of an asset than Arthur expected. There was something different about him, and Arthur had learned by chance that George had saved a number of the household servants from Morgause’s army. Gwen had been a little vague on the details and Arthur had not pressed her for more. Whatever the reason, George seemed to have grown in confidence and was certainly less fixated on brass.

He stepped into the room with all his new certainty in place and then stumbled to a halt as he saw the mess. He turned an enquiring eyebrow on Arthur, who spent a hysterical moment wondering if Gaius charged for lessons on the art of the eyebrow.

He waved a hand at the debris. “I’d be grateful if you could arrange to get this cleared up, George.”

George opened his mouth and then stared again at the seared edges of the pottery bowl. They looked to have been turned to glass. “Of course, sire,” he said. “I gather I shouldn’t ask what happened?”

“That would probably be for the best, George,” Arthur agreed.

He remained seated while George went to the door and sent a nearby maid scurrying off to gather the tools to clean up the mess, and raised his eyebrows when George took them from her on her return and sent her off to arrange for Arthur’s lunch. His eyebrows rose further when George inspected the edges of the broken pot and then crushed them to powder under his heel before sweeping them up. The sight encouraged him to ask.

“What are your views on magic, George?”

George stopped in his work, standing motionless for a brief moment, before he spoke. “Magic is illegal in Camelot, sire. Its use is punishable by death.”

“Indeed, though that’s not what I asked.”

“I’m a servant, sire. I have no views.”

Arthur snorted at that, and then sighed. “Know this, George. I’m not my father. I’ll not punish people for something they cannot help. If someone uses magic to evil purpose, then I’ll see justice done, but if magic is used to do good, I’ll not condemn it.”

He was almost testing the words out, knowing he could trust George not to repeat them, but that somehow the population would learn that Arthur did not intend to follow in his father’s footsteps – not in this.

George breathed deeply and his face was flushed. “Sire,” he whispered.

“Having said that,” Arthur articulated, having to impart the caution now, “My father still rules in Camelot and those within her borders who have magic must be careful. Something is wrong, George.”

“We know, sire,” George stood taller, straighter somehow.

 _We._ Interesting

Arthur nodded. “If anyone has any information that might help, they can go to Gaius.” He stopped when George shook his head.

“People won’t go to Gaius about this, sire. He’s known to be loyal to Uther and they’ll not trust him. They can talk to me, then I’ll bring what I find out to you and to no-one else.” He paused for a moment. “Everyone trusts Gaius as a physician and he’s much loved for the care and skill he shows us all, but where magic is concerned, there are many who have long memories of the purge and what came before and after.”

His mouth shut like a trap and Arthur had enough sense not to push, though desperate to know. It was not for George to tell this tale, he decided. It was time to talk to Gaius and discover the truth. Something must be at the core of his father’s madness where magic was concerned and Arthur had a suspicion what it might be, and he needed to know all of it. He needed to know it now.

He glanced up to see that George’s attention had shifted as he frowned at the window. It had been a brisk, bright early winter’s day, but during Arthur’s contemplation the clouds had rushed in.

“What -?” he managed, before the storm crashed over them.

The window had been standing slightly ajar to air the room and the rising wind whipped it open as a small hurricane forced its way in, swirling the papers on the desk and causing the fire to flare then die. On the heels of the wind and thunder came hailstones larger than any Arthur could ever remember seeing.

They both leapt into action, heading for the window and wrestling it shut between them. The thundering of the hailstones was broken by the sound of things breaking, of people and animals letting loose sounds of pain. George and Arthur shared a look, and then rushed for the door. Arthur was peripherally aware of George taking a moment to grab something and to carefully close the doors behind them before catching Arthur up as he headed for the stairs to the courtyard.

When they reached the bottom, Arthur grinned at George and accepted one of the two shields he carried. Hefting them above their heads, they dived out into the courtyard and began using their cover to usher people to safety as the wind rose further and the hail size increased.

Any knights close by quickly followed their lead and in a few moments horses and mules were unhitched from carts and under cover in the cloister. He saw Gaius and Gwen already working their way through the crowd; nobles, peasants, knights, guards and beggars treated equally as the noise of the storm intensified, coming to a brief, shattering climax and then gradually eased.

The ground was covered in ice, but even as they ventured carefully out into the open once more, the cloud cover shifted and the morning’s earlier sunny skies and cool breeze returned. The hailstones were already melting. People looked uneasily at the sky and a murmur of disquiet and nervousness rippled through the crowd.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651)

Arthur took a deep breath.

“Well - a taste of truly inclement weather,” he said, as he lifted an unbroken pot and set it to one side. “Let’s get this cleared up as quickly as possible, shall we?” He cast a glance at those he knew would be his allies, at Elyan, Gaius and Gwen, and at George too, sharing a smile with them. They set to work immediately and the matter-of-fact way they chivvied the milling crowd of townsfolk and castle residents soon resulted in order. Arthur had to resist the temptation to look to the sky, maintaining his own calm, relaxed attitude as he wandered around and made his own assessment of the damage the short storm had caused.

He paused as Gaius approached him.

“No major injuries, sire. Some bumps and bruises but nothing that won’t heal quickly. The Castle grooms are checking all the animals, but it seems to be the same story there.”

“Thank you, Gaius. If there’s nothing further to delay you, I would speak with you in my chambers.” He glanced around and George materialised at his elbow. “Ah, George, could you stop by the kitchen and ask them to send lunch for two to my chambers.”

“It would be an honour, sire,” Gaius said. “By your leave, I will stop by the King’s chambers on my way. He may have been disturbed by the storm. I’ll reassure him it has been entirely natural.

Arthur looked at him and Gaius met his eyes. Neither of them believed anything the least bit natural had just occurred.

“Thank you, Gaius. Perhaps you could tell him I would appreciate his council this afternoon if he has time to spare.”

It was a sad lie to try and hide the fact Uther had little interest in affairs of state these days, but at least it served to keep the general population less aware of the fact, even if those in the Castle had to know. The more time they could keep rumours of Uther’s infirmity from leaking out and beyond their borders the better.

With his head held high, Arthur made his way back to his rooms, and with every step he wished for Merlin at his side.

Arthur took the time to enquire after his father and to ensure Gaius ate well of the lunch George had arranged, before he began to speak of his conversation with Morgana.

Gaius’ eyebrows rose as he outlined the gist of Morgana’s tale.

“I know what she’s done to us all,” he finished, “but I want to believe there’s truth in her desire to work with us. That it isn’t just a ruse to draw us out.”

Gaius’ mouth turned down, his shoulders slumped. “I knew she had magic,” he said. “I knew she had a Seer’s power. I thought it was safer to try and subdue her gifts, to try and ensure she would never know. I was wrong. I was a foolish old man and Merlin had the right of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Merlin wanted to tell her about her magic. He wanted to tell you about his. I made him afraid, made him cautious. I’ve been afraid for so many years, I couldn’t believe there was anything else other than fear. I hadn’t realised until this moment how little hope I had for the future.”

A long silence followed while Arthur attempted to digest the implications of Gaius’ words. His anger rose and almost swamped him until he recalled Merlin’s horrified expression the moment his magic had been revealed. What must it have been like to live in such fear? As he looked at Gaius’ bent head, he wondered about the effect of living with such fear for over twenty years.

Anger would not help anyone.

“None of that matters. We are where we are and our task now is to find a way forward. Do you think she told me the truth?”

“There’s certainly something strange happening with magic. The little I still have feels odd, as if it’s being … stretched and then released. It is somewhat unsettling. There are other signs, too – the hail this morning is just one example.”

“Tell me about Merlin,” Arthur asked, and wondered as Gaius became so very still. After a moment all the breath seemed to leave Gaius in a single exhale.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve spoken openly about such things. To know about Merlin, there are other stories that need to be told. To do so, I’ll be breaking the vows I made to your father but I can’t see what else I can possibly do.”

Arthur had no time for soul-searching or doubts now. Whatever the danger facing Camelot, it had brought enemies to his door begging for help and he needed as much information as he could get. There would be time to face guilt and betrayal once he knew what was going on and how to deal with it.

“I need to know.”

“You do – it is beyond time.”

Over a long afternoon and night Arthur discovered the truth of his birth; heard of a time when magic was welcomed in Camelot; learned about dragons and dragonlords, leaning forward when Gaius spoke about Balinor and the love he’d found in the midst of his flight. Gaius told him about horror of the early days of the purge; when pyres were alight for weeks on end, when children were tied to the stake with their parents, or drowned in front of them first. Uther’s rage and grief had known no bounds.

Arthur interrupted Gaius’ account then, demanding to know why the people hadn’t stopped him, why Gaius himself hadn’t found a way. He felt almost sick with grief and angry at himself for his long slavish adoration of his father; of this monster. Gaius tried to explain, to outline how Uther had brought peace to Camelot through his strength, and his love for Ygraine had softened the hard edge. For those first months after her death, the people had believed, and then hoped, and finally prayed for him to return to his senses.

When they realised he never would, it was far, far too late.

During the long silence that followed, Arthur considered Gaius’ bowed head. Despite the obvious guilt and grief, there was something in Gaius that suggested to Arthur this outpouring of experiences was having a cathartic effect and he wondered what it would be like to carry the burden of such knowledge down through the years, having to face Uther every day and stay loyal to him given what he’d done.

“Why did you stay?”

Gaius met his eyes then, and smiled. “For you, my boy. For my Once and Future King in the first instance. Because I knew that’s who you were and then because I grew to love you like my own. I helped those of my own kind where I could as well. I smuggled Balinor out of Camelot and had a network of routes and trusted people – at least in the first few years until we could get most people with magic to safety.”

“Your kind?”

“Magic users. I have magic. I promised your father I would give up its use and I kept that promise for many years – well, at least until Merlin arrived.”

“He is rather a disruptive influence,” Arthur said.

Gaius chuckled suddenly and then covered his mouth to try and muffle his amusement.

Arthur stared at him. “I have the distinct impression I don’t want to know what that’s about.”

Despite the horror of the tales he’d been told, how everything he knew had been turned upside down, Arthur felt as if something had settled within him. So many mysteries and uncertainties had been addressed. All bar one.

“So, tell me about Merlin.”

“Merlin is an extraordinary young man. He’s served you and saved you many times, but his story is one that he should tell you himself. All I would say is that everything he did, he did with the best intentions for you and Camelot at heart and yet still there are things he’ll tell you that will make you angry.”

Arthur thought on that for a while. “Good intentions are not always enough. We’ve all done things we regret, Gaius. All I ask from him now is honesty.”

“And that is always what he’s wanted. Have no fear, Arthur, he will tell you everything.”

Arthur decided he’d heard more than enough for one evening and he took his leave soon after, yawning as he made his way to his chambers. A sleepy George was waiting for him and Arthur suffered his help for a few moments before sending him off to his own rest and crawling into the nicely warmed bed.

As he fell asleep, he wondered about Merlin and hoped he was safe and well. He needed him to be so.

Arthur dreams.

At least he thinks he’s dreaming. A lake is in front of him, swirling water sending waves crashing against a pebble shore, although there does not seem enough wind to disturb it to such an extent. The trees rustle around him as he stands and stares across to the small island at the centre.

“The elements themselves try to rid themselves of the corrupting influence of the magic.”

Arthur nearly crawls out of his skin in shock, turning to face his father. He narrows his eyes. His father can be autocratic and downright cruel but something about this man is foreign to him.

“Who are you?” he asks, because somehow he knows this isn’t his father.

“For shame, Arthur. I am the God you’ve been serving all these years. I am the one who understands that magic is not for mortals. It needs to be removed; cut out, exercised. It is evil as your father understands, as you know.”

“I don’t believe it’s evil.”

“You’re right, my child. It’s not inherently evil, but at the behest of man it invariably corrupts. I do not condone your father’s acts against those of my children blighted by this curse and it is why I need to take it from you. The world will be a simpler place without it. You will be free. You will all be free.”

“I don’t…” Arthur is confused.

“You need to find the Crystal Cave, Arthur, and you need to destroy it.”

“Arthur – no.”

The voice is soft, female, and should not have been able to cut through the maelstrom, but the waters are calm now, though the trees still toss their branches as if a whirlwind teases them.

“Remember Merlin, my King,” says the sweet voice. “Remember his goodness. Remember he loves you and all will be well.”

“Good morning, sire. It is unseasonably warm today, so I’ve set out your lightest doublet.”

George’s voice shatters the picture and chases the dream away. Arthur blinks up at him, the dream dissipating and fading quickly from his memory, though it leaves behind a sense of disquiet that takes most of the day to shake.

Arthur knew he didn’t have a great deal of time to consider his actions if he had to meet Morgana and Morgause. Still conflicted, he drew those he most trusted around him, arranging to meet in Gaius’ room rather than his own chambers. There would be fewer of them, too as Leon travelled on his errand to warn the Druids to stay away from Camelot and Arthur hoped Lancelot had found Merlin, and could attempt to keep him out of trouble. Feeling the sudden and sharp pain of loss, he pushed away the knowledge that he missed Merlin more than he’d ever thought possible.

Elyan, Percival and Gwaine joined Arthur, Gwen and Gaius in Gaius’ chambers and he told them all about his conversation with Morgana as well as his doubts. His father would have called it weakness but Arthur welcomed their council and advice.

“You can’t seriously think we can trust her?” Typically, Gwaine broke the silence.

Gwen bit her lip and stared at her hands as they twisted in her lap.

“Guinevere?” Arthur prompted.

“I don’t understand what she would have to gain?”

“She would have lured Arthur out of Camelot. He’d be more vulnerable.”

Arthur wanted to be annoyed at Elyan’s words but he knew they were true; of course they were.

“You said there was something wrong with magic. How do you know?” Percival asked.

Arthur and Gaius exchanged a look.

“Merlin has magic – that’s why I sent him away.”

If he expected surprise and shock, Arthur was bound for disappointment. Glancing around at them, none appeared remotely troubled by his grand revelation. He pressed his fingers to his forehead.

“Am I the only one who didn’t know?”

“You knew, Princess,” Gwaine said. “You just fooled yourself that you didn’t. We’ve had all those close shaves and lucky escapes – there had to be someone helping things along.” He accompanied his statement with a waggling hand. “Besides,” he added. “Courage, Strength and Magic, remember?”

“The rest of you guessed?” Arthur asked, after a long pause.

They all nodded and Gwen shrugged apologetically.

“It doesn’t bother any of you?”

“It’s Merlin,” Gwaine’s tone brooked no argument. “I don’t know a better man. Magic doesn’t change what a man is at heart – and Merlin is good.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the challenge in Gwaine’s eyes and he met the look dead on.

“Indeed, Sir Gwaine, I know that to be true.”

And that, it seemed, would be then end of the discussion regarding Merlin’s magic. Gaius explained what they knew about the fluctuations in magic and his belief tit was tied to the unusual weather and earth movements over the past weeks as well. The knights had all heard rumours of strange beasts roaming the countryside and the amount of dismembered game surfacing supported the rumours. So far, no human had been attacked but everyone was nervous and no-one was travelling alone if they could help it.

Elyan finally said, “If this is affecting magic and the earth itself, then it would be enough, I think, to move even enemies to seek allies where they could. If they know Merlin has magic and is powerful, it makes sense they would look for him. If we’re to find out what’s happening, I think we should meet them.”

It was a long speech for quiet, thoughtful Elyan and they all listened without interrupting. When he’d finished, Arthur noticed everyone nodding in agreement. It seemed they had come to their decision.

“We leave tomorrow at dawn. For all intents and purposes I’m taking out one of the scheduled patrols. We don’t want to raise any suspicions.” By ‘any’, Arthur meant he didn’t want Uther to think anything of him taking out a patrol and when the rest of them nodded, he knew they had the same train of thought. “It will take a hard day’s riding to get to the Darkling Woods and means we can be there a day before Morgana and Morgause, giving us a chance to familiarise ourselves with the lie of the land.”

The meeting broke and they left in ones and twos until only Arthur remained. “Gaius, will you stay to keep an eye on my Father and ensure all is well?”

“I will, sire. I’m too old to be gallivanting around the woods in this weather anyway.”

"Sir Gethin is a good man – go to him if there are any difficulties.”

“I’ve known Sir Gethin for many years, sire, and he’s a good choice.”

Arthur smiled and as he left he heard Gaius speak again.

“Take care, my boy.”

Their breath was visible in the clear frosty air as they set off. Arthur scanned the cloudless sky, across to where the dawn light had just begun to glimmer. He wore a short fur-lined cloak over his mail, with the bright red of his knight’s cloak atop it. With a twitch of his fingers, he settled it in place, splayed out across his horse’s hindquarters, offering the beast some protection from the cold as well.

With a final uneasy glance around the courtyard, he gave the order to move out and they clattered through the gateway and into the town. When they cleared the town gates, they found another rider waiting for them. Even in breeches and bundled up in layers of clothing, none of them could mistake Guinevere.

Arthur saw Elyan open his mouth, but one quelling gaze from her had his mouth snapping shut. Gwaine was openly amused and even Percival had a small smile to spare.

“I’ve brought medical supplies and I’m coming with you. I don’t suppose any of you considered you might need more if you meet some monster on the way.”

Arthur agreed meekly, though he knew Percival did have the small pouch of medicines and dressings Gaius insisted every patrol carried. Like enough they might have need of more as Guinevere said.

“As always, Guinevere, your presence brightens our day.” He offered her a short bow and ignored her eye roll and Gwaine’s snort of laughter. “We’ve a long day’s ride ahead of us – let’s get moving.”

However easy their relations, however free they felt to tease him, when Arthur gave a command, he expected it obeyed and without any further conversation, they dropped into single file and set off at a steady canter.

The ancient stone known as the longstone stood close to the entrance of the Darkling Woods and would be a natural place to meet. With some steady riding, they made it just as the light faded and Arthur pushed them all to make camp. Once done, he set a watch, and with a glance at Guinevere, placed her on the rotation with the others. Gwen’s features were set and stern enough that not even her brother dared to comment. The face of a Queen, Arthur thought, and while he had no regrets in him for his own part, he acknowledged the loss to Camelot. Then he brightened. She may not be queen, he thought, but the castle would still need a first lady, a chatelaine, and he’d already decided he would not take a wife. Not when his heart belonged so irrevocably elsewhere.

“My Lady,” he bowed in her direction and enjoyed her flush of embarrassed pleasure.

He would make it the truth once he became King, he decided.

During Gwaine’s watch around dusk the following day, Morgana and Morgause arrived. Gwaine’s signal had alerted them and all stood with swords drawn as two shaggy ponies, bearing drab, bent figures entered the clearing. As they’d arranged, Gwaine stayed out of sight but close enough to hopefully provide some advantage if this proved to be a trap. The signal had already told Arthur that no-one accompanied them, no hidden force attempting to surround or surprise them, but they had magic and were as dangerous as an army on their own.

Still, he couldn’t help a pang of distress as Morgana eased off her pony and then moved slowly across to help Morgause make what appeared to be a much more painful dismount. They were both a ruin compared to when he’d seen them scant weeks before.

Arthur waited.

Morgana and Morgause moved slowly, Morgana supporting her sister, until they faced Arthur.

“You came.”

Arthur thought he heard surprise in Morgana’s voice.

“There’s no denying there's something wrong, Morgana. I know you, and I know how well you bear a grudge. You were either entirely sincere, or this is an elaborate ruse to lure me out of Camelot. I weighed the information I had and believed the former. Something is wrong, and it has my enemies worried enough to seek an alliance. I am here, Morgana. What have you to say?”

Morgana stared at him as if she’d never seen him before and Morgause broke the lengthening silence.

“We know there's something wrong with magic, something fundamental that threatens us all. The only one we know with the power to help seems to be your servant.”

“Merlin?” Arthur still couldn’t quite believe it, even after Gaius’ assertions.

Morgause managed a half-smile, the movement pulling at the scarring on her marred face. “So it seems. We must find him and travel to the Crystal Cave, the place where magic was given to us by the Mother.”

“That’s where Merlin is headed. He can’t be more than a two or three days in front of us – if that. Do you know the way?”

“The longstone is a way-marker to the Crystal Cave – it’s why we travelled here to meet you.”

“Then we ride at dawn.” Arthur’s hand had not left the hilt of his sword throughout their exchange. “Sir Percival will help you set up a camp close by and will stay with you.”

Morgause gave a nod to acknowledge both Arthur’s caution and his help, but Morgana didn’t seem to have heard him. She was staring off to the side.

“Gwen?” she said.

“My Lady,” Gwen said, and then turned away.

Arthur watched the emotions flit across Morgana’s expression and for once it showed her vulnerability and regret. When she caught his eyes, however, her chin rose, haughty and assured once more – at least on the surface.

Arthur posted a double guard during their short night and no-one slept easily. As soon as enough light filtered through the trees they made ready and were on their way, eating a cold breakfast as they travelled. Arthur hated being reliant on Morgause for their direction, but at least he, who knew every blade of grass in his kingdom, knew their location. His mood lifted when, later in the day, they found another trail and Arthur recognised from the deliberate signs left that Lancelot had found and was with Merlin. He drove the group as hard as he dared and only the grisly remains of some horrible beast stopped them in their tracks.

The awful stench had them all moving downwind, huddling at the edge of the clearing.

“Do you know what it is?” Arthur asked Morgana and Morgause.

Morgause shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it - or know of anything similar. It looks as if it – exploded.”

“That would be Merlin, I expect,” Arthur said, and couldn’t help his grin.

Morgana and Morgause looked shocked.

“What?” he asked.

Morgana answered, speaking to him directly for almost the first time since they’d met. “You don’t seem angry about him having magic.”

Arthur paused, searching for the words. “I was angry when I found out,” he admitted. “Not to mention he’d just blown something up in front of me. It’s not the way I would have wanted to learn about his magic. I felt betrayed.” He wondered where the words were coming from, how he could explain this to an enemy when he hadn’t been able to find the words to tell his friends. “I wish he’d trusted me. I wish he’d felt able to tell me about his magic. I wish he’d realised I would have protected him and I trusted him – magic or no. I felt betrayed – but it was never about the magic.”

Though the words were for Morgana, everyone was listening now. Well, might as well only have to say it once.

“I trust Merlin in a way I’ve never trusted anyone before. I thought he trusted me. Gaius has explained why it had to be this way, but I can’t help thinking so much could have been different, if he’d been able to tell me. I’m angry at the roles we were pushed into through no fault of our own; I’m angry that I’ve never known Merlin as well as I thought; I’m angry that me, that Merlin, that you, Morgana, have borne the brunt of another age’s fear and lust for revenge. I’m not angry at Merlin.”

Morgause bit her lip and looked down.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Gwaine said, breaking the uncomfortable silence following Arthur’s words. “But could we move on – this place stinks.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Gwaine, but gave the order to move out, pressing a hand to Gwaine’s shoulder as he passed the knight.

Elyan approached him during the afternoon. “Have you looked at the tracks, sire?

Arthur nodded. “Three sets of tracks – they met someone else during the encounter with the monster. A friend, it seems, as they’re travelling together.”

“Travelling slowly,” Gwaine joined them.

“Lancelot’s doing, I expect.”

Neither of the knights commented and Arthur pretended not to notice the look they exchanged.

During their only brief stop to eat and rest the horses, Arthur noticed Gwen looking through her pack and then approaching Morgause with a small bottle.

Morgana stopped her. “What is it?”

“It’s some yarrow and valerian. It might help with the pain.”

Morgause accepted it. “Thank you.”

Gwen nodded and turned away, but Morgana caught her arm.

“Gwen, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t see anyone in pain, Morgana.” She slipped away, back to her own mount as they made their preparations to ride on. Arthur watched Morgana’s expression become pensive and almost sorrowful, before she caught him looking and became distant once again.

Still so much pretence, he thought, and then called on them to mount up.

Hengroen shied, nearly unseating Arthur. Behind him, he could hear the snorting and shifting of the others, words of reassurance from the humans not seeming to have much effect. Hengroen was a warhorse, trained for battle and little spooked him.

Until now.

Above the nervousness of the horses, he could hear shouting and recognised both of the voices. Lancelot and Leon.

“Gwen, stay with the horses and Morgause. The rest of you, with me.” Morgana hesitated, glancing at Morgause. “Now Morgana, we might have need of your magic.” Without another look or word at her, he headed towards the noise.

Morgana spared a moment to help Morgause dismount, muttering to Gwen loud enough for Arthur to hear.

“He doesn’t get any less bossy, does he?”

Arthur couldn’t help but grin at her spirit and Gwen’s sudden giggle, although when he glanced back, Gwen had already shifted her attention away. Morgana, with one last look at the other women, hastened to join them.

They broke through the clearing just as something, which looked as hideous as the remains of the monster they’d found earlier, threw back its massive head and let loose a roar. Merlin was standing before it, hand outstretched and eyes like molten gold. Arthur looked from one to the other, not sure which awed him most. The creature was abruptly quiet, turning its great head until it was staring at Arthur with huge reptilian eyes blinking once before it disappeared from view as if it had never existed.

“What the –“ Arthur managed, before a cry of pain interrupted him.

Merlin had dropped to the ground, curled up on his side and clutching at his head. When he opened his eyes they were gold and unseeing.

“Morgana, what’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Elyan, get Morgause here as quickly as you –” He stopped as Morgause entered the clearing, followed by Gwen.

“I had to come,” Morgause said. “I could feel the disruption in the earth itself.”

“There’s something wrong with Merlin.”

Lancelot and Gwen converged on Merlin from different directions, clasping hands in a brief greeting before turning all their attention to Merlin. He twisted and whimpered and there seemed to be nothing they could say or do. Arthur stared, distressed and helpless.

Leon approached him and bowed low, ignoring the women standing with him. Arthur clenched his fists.

"Sire. The Druids call him Emrys.”

“Emrys?”

Morgause looked stunned, and then she turned her eyes on Arthur, as if she’d never seen him before.

“But if Merlin is Emrys then that means you’re – no, no, it can’t be.”

Merlin cried out and Arthur lost patience, grabbing her arm and shaking it. “Help him.”

“It’s his magic,” she said. “It’s tearing him apart.”

And just like that, Arthur recalled the scene he’d interrupted when he arrived in the clearing and understood, moving across and grabbing hold of Merlin’s shoulder.

“Merlin, use the magic – you need to use it.”

Merlin rallied at Arthur’s voice, as if the very sound of it brought him back to himself. “What will I do?”

The glow around Merlin was intensifying and Arthur was convinced he could see actual tendrils creeping from beneath his nails, seeping out and seeking escape. Lancelot took hold of Guinevere and drew her away.

“How would I know what you can do? Does it matter? Destroy something.” Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I don’t want to destroy anything.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, at the way his hands were tightly clenched, his jaw set against pain and could see a muscle jump in a fast, staccato rhythm. Of course he didn’t want that. Merlin never wanted to destroy – he loved nature and - . Arthur stopped himself before sentiment took too great a hold. He let out a short laugh.

“Then make something _grow_.”

Morgause spoke. “Yes, creation is much harder, Arthur, that’s good.”

The sudden rush of pleasure he felt at the approval in Morgause’s voice surprised Arthur. Why he should care for an enemy’s praise ? Then all thought of Morgause flew from his mind as Merlin planted his hands flat on the grass and gold light erupted from him, pushing down into the earth itself. Like a wave, it washed over and around them, and he heard them all cry out as it surged.

Arthur had never known a feeling like it; warmth and caring, with an undertone of sadness and guilt and he understood this reflected everything Merlin felt. Underneath it all ran a current of joy, of merriment and love which set an ache in Arthur’s heart. This was Merlin, the core of him, and in that moment Arthur knew everything his father said about magic to be wrong.

Amazed, he looked around at the forest glade and laughed aloud.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651)

The winter chill had been banished and in its place a warm breeze wafted around them, carrying the sweet scent of fresh grass. The trees surrounding them were covered in the soft green mist of new growth. Butterflies, in a myriad of bright jewel colours, flitted around them. Dragonflies danced and bees dotted between the early spring flowers, stopping briefly to collect nectar before moving on.

Not only nature had been affected. The aches and pains he carried as a warrior, the battle scars of so many wars, had gone and Arthur had never felt so well in body or spirit. As he looked on each of the others in turn, he could see the same realisation, watching them stand a little taller and hold their heads higher.

None of it, though, shocked him as much as the changes to Morgana and Morgause.

Their drab black garb had disappeared and it struck Arthur that he saw them now as Merlin did in those early days. Morgana wore the emerald gown he knew had been a particular favourite, and her hair was tamed into the smooth, shining curls he remembered. There were even jewels around her neck and wrists. Morgause stood tall, all trace of her injuries gone and garbed head to toe in mail, as beautiful and assured as she’d been when she’d crashed through the window the first time they’d met. The hilt of the sword at her waist hinted at its quality, the sheath itself fine leather chased with gold and silver runes.

Morgana and Morgause were staring at one another, looking as shocked and amazed as Arthur felt. As he watched, a flight of butterflies converged on Morgana, fluttering around her head before they were gone again. In their place sat a thin gold circlet, studded with precious stones. Her hand reached up uncertainly and they turned as one, their attention moving to Merlin.

Merlin.

Merlin, who gazed around the clearing looking as shocked and startled as everyone else; mouth open and his eyes wide and just so… Merlin-like in that moment, Arthur found himself reacting much as he normally would.

“Butterflies, Merlin? Really?”

Merlin’s mouth shut with a snap and he scowled at Arthur, though no-one could have missed the relief almost bleeding from him. “I’ll turn you into a butterfly, you prat.” He might have been attempting to mutter the words but the choked off snort of laughter from Gwaine belied that.

“Sir Gwaine, if you please, let’s get a proper camp set up.” Arthur was satisfied the job should be enough to keep Gwaine busy and away from Merlin for a while. Then he frowned a little. Merlin was still crouched on the ground and had wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to still his shivering.

“Set up a couple of tents, would you, Gwaine.”

After a moment’s silence a more subdued and definitely more respectful response came from Gwaine as he set to work with the other knights.

“I’ll have you know, Merlin, that if you’d turned me into a butterfly, I would have been the most handsome butterfly the world had ever seen.”

Merlin snorted at that, almost in unison with Morgana, and Arthur watched carefully as their eyes met and then slid away from one another. Arthur thought it interesting the way their expressions matched; guilt, anger and sorrow in equal measure on both.

Morgause stepped across the clearing, breaking the odd tableau, and if she noticed the sudden alertness of the knights or the way Merlin shied away from her touch, she gave no sign of it. She set the back of her hand against Merlin’s forehead and Arthur tried to stay calm as her eyes briefly flashed gold. She frowned.

“You’ve expended enough energy to upset your body, yet your power is hardly diminished. You must be careful, Merlin. You need to release your magic in short, controlled bursts to allow the pressure to ease but not deplete your own strength.”

Merlin nodded, as if he’d come to the same conclusion. “I need to eat,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Here,” Morgana stepped forward, already rummaging in the pack she carried, and hauled out a wrapped parcel.

Arthur watched as Merlin accepted it without hesitation and a heartfelt “Thank you”, before tearing into the bread and meat as if starving.

Arthur stepped in then. “Easy, Merlin, or you’ll choke or be sick.” He swung his cloak off his shoulders and wrapped it around him.

Merlin nodded and managed to slow himself down.

Arthur glanced around and saw the camp was taking shape. He couldn’t help but smile as Merlin whispered a word to light the fire, grinning further as Gwaine dropped the flint and leapt back with a yelp and a disgruntled look at Merlin. Tents were being raised while Morgause unpacked cooking equipment.

Once they’d been fed, Arthur urged Merlin into one of the tents, placing a bedroll on the ground and, once he’d hauled off Merlin’s boots, got Merlin under the covers.

“For pity’s sake, Merlin, stop wriggling.”

“I’m cold.” Merlin’s voice was muffled, buried as he was under the blankets topped with their cloaks. Merlin kept trying to curl himself into a ball and dislodging the careful arrangement of covering Arthur attempted.

“I know,” Arthur tried to keep the worry from his voice. “Just give me a moment.” He slipped off his own boots and slid under the covers too, tugging at Merlin until he uncoiled a little and slid backwards, seeking the heat of Arthur’s body.

Arthur pulled him closer still and wrapped his arms around him, smiling slightly at Merlin’s hum of contentment.

“S’nice,” Merlin said.

They lay in silence for a while and gradually Merlin’s violent shivering eased. Arthur thought he had fallen asleep until Merlin clutched his hand.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

Arthur hesitated for a moment and then tightened his own grip on Merlin’s fingers. “I’m scared, too.”

It was a huge admission and they both knew it.

“I had to send you away, you understood, didn’t you?” Arthur’s voice hitched up at the end of the question and there was another squeeze to his hand, this time reassurance.

“I had a couple of mishaps once I was out of the castle. If those had happened in Camelot –“

Little more needed to be said.

“My father,” Arthur cleared his throat. “My father’s mad, isn’t he?”

A beat, two beats, three beats of his heart.

“Yes, Arthur, I think Morgana’s actions finally pushed him into madness.”

“No, Merlin. My father’s been mad since the day I was born.” He felt the way Merlin was suddenly tense in his arms. “Gaius told me a great deal. He didn’t tell me everything and he said there were some things that you should speak about, but he told me about my birth and the aftermath. My mother did not lie.”

“She was conjured by Morgause,” Merlin pointed out. “At the very least she misled. Your father loved your mother and would never deliberately have caused her harm. I think his arrogance is at the root of this; his belief nothing could touch someone he loved. If he accepted responsibility for her death, then he would have to accept the guilt and he couldn’t deal with that. He had to find something to blame, and that something became the magic. I’m sorry, Arthur.”

They lay together in silence for a while.

“Why did you stop me killing him? Why did you save his life?”

Merlin twisted and Arthur loosened his hold for a moment as Merlin turned to face him, curving a hand around his cheek. There was a quiet gasp as he found it damp and then arms wrapped around Arthur. Merlin tugged at him until his head could rest against Merlin’s shoulder and quietly, his deep voice a whisper in his ear, he explained.

“I didn’t do it for Uther. If you had killed him that night, you’d never have forgiven yourself and it would have soured your reign right from the start. You’re meant for greater things, Arthur, and I intend to see you become the king you’re meant to be.”

There was so much Arthur wanted to say to that, to demand explanations. How could Merlin have such faith in him? How could he believe Arthur could be a great king? Instead, he found another truth within himself and rolled the words around his head before finding the courage to speak – even if the actual words he wanted were still too truthful to say out loud.

“Without you, I‘m nothing.”

“Arthur, no – “

“Hush, Merlin, let me speak.” Arthur pulled back slightly as a gentle light lit the tent. He smiled gently at the blue orb as it floated above them. Of course, he thought, and ignored Merlin’s grumble. In the dim light he met Merlin’s eyes and wondered what his own expression had given away when Merlin gasped and blushed. Well, he decided, he wanted to ensure there were no more secrets between them.

He closed the distance between them.

Their first kiss was gentle, love rather than passion, and the shy smile they exchanged when they parted hinted at the deep feelings they shared. Arthur let his head settle on Merlin’s shoulder once more as they wrapped their arms around each other.

“That first day we met, did you never wonder why I was in the town and not by my father’s side? I couldn’t bear the thought of another execution and was too cowardly to stand next to my father and watch a young man die. You challenged me that day, when I felt raw with doubt, and it’s why I pushed you. I needed someone who would fight back and I found you. Ever since, you’ve helped me to question, to look beyond the obvious. If I am ever a good King, the King you want me to be, it will be because of you.”

Merlin kissed him then and though it was still a gentle caress, it held an undercurrent of the passion.

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.” Arthur had become uncomfortable with his unusual foray into trying to explain his thoughts and reverted to his usual tone.

Merlin chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, your pratiness.”

“I’m never going to get the respect I deserve from you, am I, Merlin?”

The kiss to Merlin’s brow accompanying the words took any heat from them, but Merlin answered anyway.

“You have my respect, Arthur. You’ve always been my King.”

Arthur’s voice was rough. “Put out the light and get some sleep.”

“You are close, my child.”

Arthur stirs in his sleep.

“Remember, the cave must be destroyed.”

Arthur moved again, then arms tightened around him and the dream fades to the sound of gentle waves and a woman’s soft laughter echoes in his mind.

“Merlin, my love,” the voice says. “You have found your destiny.”

As the first light of dawn filtered through the leafy branches, the quiet was sliced through by the sound of a woman’s scream.

The knights were already on their feet when Arthur scrambled from his tent, Merlin in close pursuit. Morgan stumbled towards them, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at Arthur.

“You mustn’t, Arthur, you mustn’t. Promise me you won’t.”

“Morgana.” For the first time since they’d become enemies, Arthur reached for Morgana and pulled her shivering form into his arms. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Morgause appeared, carrying a cloak and blanket, which between them they wrapped around Morgana, exchanging a worried look as they did so.

“What did you See, dearest?” Morgause asked.

Morgana had slumped against Arthur but at least seemed to have returned to herself. “I’m not sure – it was so bright and Arthur was about to do something terrible.”

Arthur was about to demand what, but caught Morgause’s quick shake of the head.

“At least we’re forewarned,” he said instead. “Merlin, use some of that wild magic of yours to set some more small fires going, and get some food cooking. We need to get Morgana warm.” He’d been aware of Merlin hovering awkwardly to the side.

Merlin hesitated and then stepped forward. “Would you let me help?” he asked Morgana.

Her suspicion was obvious and he flushed and dropped his gaze to the forest floor.

“What do you suggest?” It was Morgause who filled the silence.

“I can enchant heat into Morgana’s cloak. It might help to keep her warm.”

“Do it,” Morgause said and while Morgana tensed and looked out into the trees she didn’t refuse.

Merlin spoke a quiet word, his hand outstretched, and Arthur couldn’t help his indrawn breath at the golden flash of his eyes. Morgana’s tense form eased and even Arthur could feel the heat emanating from the cloak. She released her hold on him, gathering her dignity around her much as she pulled the fabric closer to her. Her eyes were fixed on Arthur and he flushed at her mocking, amused expression. As she turned away she met Merlin’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, and though her tone was cold, there was no doubting the gratitude.

Merlin bobbed his head in reply and then turned away to attend to the tasks Arthur had given him, using his magic in small ways and Arthur smiled at how everyone accepted it without comment. Merlin was being careful, obviously wary about how it might react, but it seemed that using it eased the pressure and helped him with his control. Morgana, frosty but polite, asked if he’d be able to magic up a set of more appropriate clothing for her. Arthur swallowed the sudden lump in is throat as Merlin seemed almost pathetically pleased that she’d asked. After a few moments thought, Merlin took a spare blanket and when the gold had faded from his eyes there was a set of warm breeches and tunic for her.

She’d thanked him, and Arthur thought perhaps there was a little less frost in her voice.

Arthur admitted to himself that he was most nonplussed by the alteration in Morgause’s attitude towards him and Merlin. There was a new diffidence in her interactions with them both that surprised him and, as he caught Morgana’s puzzled frown, realised he wasn’t the only one confused by this shift.

Once they’d eaten a quick breakfast, Arthur called a quick council.

“Morgause, how close are we to the cave?”

“If we push on, we should be able to reach it today.”

“Do you have any idea what we’ll find there?”

“No, I don’t understand what’s happening, but the Crystal Cave is the source of our magic and it seems an obvious place to start.”

“Leon, did the Druids have anything else to say?”

Leon repeated what he’d told Lancelot and Merlin.

“The Gods have transgressed?” Morgause exchanged a look with Morgana.

“What can that mean?” Merlin asked.

“The Gods and Goddesses of the Old Religion were brought into being by the Mother, to watch over her land and people, to accept the thanks and veneration, to ensure all recalled what was due to Her, and the many different ways in which She provides for us. The different Gods and Goddesses exist to remind us of that. Cerunnos, the Triple Goddess, Caileach, Rhiannon and all of the others. If the Gods have angered the Mother, well it would explain the earth shaking and the weather, though I’m not sure how it would have affected the magic in such a way.”

“It seems as if the Crystal Cave may be the best place to look for answers – and it’s all we’ve got.” Arthur looked at Merlin, who nodded once. “Let’s get moving.”

There was a sudden burst of activity as they broke the camp and readied the horses. As they worked, Arthur took time to consider each of them.

Morgana and Morgause looked so different from when they’d met the previous day. It was partly Merlin’s magic, making a physical difference, but as he thought about the feeling of well-being that had suffused him, he knew it was more. Since the revelation that Merlin was this mysterious Emrys, the sense of danger he felt – from Morgause in particular – seemed to have disappeared. He wasn’t sure what it all meant, but at least it led to a more comfortable atmosphere. Well for him at least. As he watched, he saw Leon lead the two ponies across to them, offer a brief bow and walk away without speaking. Morgana stared after him as Leon joined the other knights.

Elyan, Percival, Lancelot and Gwaine, despite being newly-minted knights, already possessed the bearing and courtesy he expected from his men. Leon had been brought up through the usual process, a noble-born man who’d been a page and then a squire before gaining his knighthood. He had cut something of a solitary figure amongst the knights, liked and respected but with no close cadre of friends. The arrival of Lancelot and the others had given him that group and despite the differences in rank, he fitted well with them. Indeed, Leon’s acceptance of the new knights had gone a long way to ensuring the rest of the knights had also accepted them.

While he would have made an ideal First Knight, Leon was the son of a baron, and one day he would leave Camelot to hold his lands. It saved Arthur from a difficult decision because while Leon would have filled the role superbly, there was little doubt in Arthur’s mind who he wanted. As he watched, Lancelot approached Gwen, and they spoke together for a few moments.

Arthur smiled, watching the couple who would be his First Knight and Camelot’s Chatelaine.

An elbow caught him. “You’re plotting.”

Merlin.  
Arthur elbowed him in return.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get the horses.”

Merlin chuckled and his eyes flashed gold and in the next moment Hengroen, accompanied by Merlin’s mare, walked over to them.

With a cheeky grin, Merlin waggled his fingers at Arthur. “Ever so useful, isn’t it?”

He seemed almost giddy and Arthur, with his growing understanding, could see the relief and the joy at the core of it. With mock exasperation, he shook his head.

“Well, I suppose you had to have some useful qualities.”

They were both grinning as they took hold of their respective mounts, and once Arthur was seated and looked around, he became aware of the amusement of the others who’d been privy to their exchange. Even Morgause was smiling.

Morgana appeared troubled, however, and for the first time, she urged the little pony alongside stately Hengroen. Arthur offered her a tight smile.

“That’s the way it should be – it’s the way it will be under your rule.” Her voice was low and caught a little over the words. “But it’s too late for me, isn’t it.”

His hesitation was answer enough, and she turned her head away, staring into the trees. “I don’t know Morgana, perhaps, perhaps we can find another way. Who knows what we’ll face in the next few days.”

She inclined her head, a diamond in the front of the circlet she still wore catching the light and becoming a sudden star. Without another word, she dropped to the back of the line to ride beside Morgause.

Merlin filled the gap but after one sharp look, he remained silent and Arthur was left to consider the ties of love, blood and duty, and how things could go horribly wrong despite everyone’s best intentions.

 They rode steadily through the day, the urgency increasing with the number of times the earth shook, and the distant roaring of beasts walking abroad that had no business existing. Merlin continued to carry out a series of small tasks using his magic, with Arthur watching him closely and giving him tasks to do any time he became restless. He was pleased no-one flinched or seemed concerned by magic being used so close to them and in a moment of honesty, was pleased that applied to him, too. Magic seemed so much a part of Merlin he decided Gwaine must have been right – on some level he must have known to have been able to accept it so quickly, to recognise and feel comforted in Merlin’s presence even when his eyes glowed.

Arthur had been brought up to fear and despise sorcery; to believe everything bad in the world stemmed from it. He was surprised how easy it was to let go of a lifetime’s indoctrination. Gwaine had the right of it yet again. Merlin was a good man and would always be a good man. Whether he had magic or not wasn’t a factor in that quintessential fact.

Once or twice he caught Gwaine watching his interactions with Merlin and was surprised at his own pleasure in the approval he found there. Perhaps Merlin should have a First Knight of his own – the court sorcerer’s knight. He grinned at Merlin, sunny and wide, and was treated to a hugely suspicious look in return.

His amusement and further planning of his future court kept him occupied and he wasn’t paying attention when Merlin, riding slightly ahead, stopped suddenly.

Arthur pulled himself from his thoughts and stopped Hengroen next to Merlin's mare. “Merlin?”

Merlin nodded towards a thin fissure in a nearby rock wall. “This is it.” His face was twisted in a grimace of distaste.

Morgause dismounted and came forward.

“Is this it?” she asked.

Merlin looked at her in surprise. “Haven’t you been here before?”

“Very few are privileged to take the path to the Crystal Cave. It is the source of all our magic and guards its own secrets well.”

Merlin sighed. “There’s so much I don’t know.”

“Is there anything else you know that might help?” Arthur asked her.

“Only that the crystals show possibilities, not absolutes – they can be misleading and can take you down the very path you seek to avoid.” She levelled a long look at Merlin as she spoke.

Merlin flushed and looked down before he sighed. “That’s true. It’s probably best if we all try to avoid looking too closely at them.”

Arthur nodded and turned Hengroen, waiting until they had drawn close. “We don’t know what we’ll find, so I’d rather keep some strength in reserve. Leon, I need you and the knights to wait here. Guinevere – you stay, too, and make preparations in case anyone is hurt. Morgana, Morgause, Merlin and myself will enter.

“Sire, is that wise?” Leon met his eyes, flicking a glance towards Morgana.

“I will not hurt Arthur,” Morgana said.

“Forgive me if I find it hard to take you at your word, my Lady,” Leon’s voice was winter made anew.

“Sir Leon, thank you for your concern.” The earth trembled under them. “We don’t have the time to discuss this further. My orders stand.”

Sir Leon bowed his head.

None of the knights were particularly happy , but Arthur was pleased that after Leon voiced his legitimate concern, the others did not protest further.

Merlin looked like he wanted to say something, but Arthur silenced him with a quick frown, quirking a smile at the annoyed shrug of one shoulder he received in response.

Once on foot, the four of them slipped through the fissure, Merlin in the lead with an orb of blue light bobbing in front of him.

After a few moments, Arthur wondered if he was the victim of one of Merlin’s awful jokes, before the passage widened out, and the blue faded, to be replaced by a soft white light that seemed to bounce and ripple around the vast cavern they had stepped into.

Arthur heard Morgana and Morgause gasp at the cold beauty of it. Everywhere he looked he saw jagged peaks, like a mountain range in miniature, all glistening white facets surrounding a still black pool. Odd, he thought, that the crystals don’t seem to reflect in the water.

Glancing round at his companions, Arthur realised Merlin had his eyes shut tight, but Morgana and Morgause both seemed entranced as they stared at the crystals. Morgana’s cheeks were wet, Morgause was smiling.

Perhaps because he didn’t have magic, he believed he wouldn’t be affected by the crystals, until his eye was caught by the flash of a red cape, and he bent closer.

“Don’t – “

He thought he heard Merlin speak, but continued to lean closer.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651)

Flashes of red and silver, the sight of a sword cutting through the air and all of a sudden Arthur felt as if he was at war with himself. Everywhere he looked, every crystal facet he glanced at reflected scenes of horror. In each one, he was taking his sword to the fragile crystals, wreaking destruction, while Morgana, Morgause and Merlin lay dead or dying. The knights were nowhere to be seen and there was a swirling eddy of power seething around him and through the cavern.

“Arthur, shut your eyes.”

My child, fulfil your destiny, free the land of the curse of magic.

My son, do not listen to the false God.

He looked up and saw a man, with features smooth and young, though his eyes were old and as cold and dead as the crystals. He didn’t think he’d seen him before but he recognised the voice from his faded dreams.

“Arthur, please.”

Startled he turned away to face Merlin, shocked beyond words at the grief in Merlin's features.

“Look at me, Arthur. Look only at me and everything will be fine.”

"Destroy the magic."

"Save the magic."

Suddenly, there were other shadowy figures ranged among the crystals, clustered at the edge of the pool, and Arthur gasped at the sight of them, at figures that could only be the Gods and Goddesses of the Old Religion. He wildly glanced around, wondering if the others could see them. The form standing alone was the owner of the voice that had been haunting his dreams.

"You will carry out my bidding, child."

In horror, Arthur stared down at his hand as it began to move without his volition.

“No,” he said, dragging his eyes away and seeking out Merlin, even as his sword found its way into an attack position. He could not unclench his fist to drop the weapon.

“Help me.”

Merlin threw out his hand and the God laughed in derision.

"I have bound magic here, sorcerer. Today all magic will be removed from the world. With the destruction of the crystals by the Once and Future King, the hold of the Old Religion will be forever broken. I will replace the magic and all people shall kneel to me. I alone will have the power of miracles."

“My magic may be bound, but my sword is not.” Morgause stepped forward, giving the impression of an avenging angel with her blond hair and mail, sword upraised.

Arthur gasped as she parried the first strike his sword attempted at the crystals.

“Morgause, you must stop me. Whatever you need to do, you must save magic.” It was a tacit acknowledgement that he had no control over his own actions and Morgause may have to resort to drastic actions. He heard Merlin’s wail of denial, but it barely registered as he struggled to regain control. He remembered the dreams and recognised this being had insidiously found a way to use his body, athen spared a moment to wonder why it could not simply destroy the cave itself.

She took one step back and bowed. “You have my word, my King.”

Now the fight seemed to be on in earnest but Arthur could see Morgause was hampered as she tried to fight him without hurting him. Meanwhile, all his sword seemed eager to do was get through her in any way possible, to reach the crystals beyond.

Morgause was grim-faced and sweat beaded her brow. Arthur, struggling against the force controlling him, managed to prevent the blows that would have killed her.

"Destroy the witch!"

“No!” Arthur shouted his denial.

"Then I will."

A sword of light flashed through the air and Arthur heard Morgause cry out.

"Now you can finish her."

Morgause was stumbling backwards, sword low and her hand pressed to her side.

“Help them.”

It was Merlin’s voice cryingout, to the Gods of the Old Religion. And then he called out a name Arthur did not know.

“Freya, please.”

Arthur heard water then, the gurgling of a spring that quickly became a torrent and he was washed off his feet. Morgause, despite her injury, leapt nimbly to higher ground, while he was borne down towards the bottom of the cave, further away from the main groups of crystals.

There was a cry of rage from the otherworldly voice and then the shadowy figures that were the Gods of the Old Religion solidified and became clearer.

"This is not your right. Magic belongs to the earth, to the Mother. You cannot remove it." The three women spoke as one, their voices resonating throughout the cave. "We return the Once and Future King his free will."

Arthur dropped his sword.

"If you cannot serve my purpose then I have done with you."

Fire leapt towards him and Arthur barely had the time to look towards Merlin, hoping his regret and his love were etched on his face before he met his end on a pyre.

“No!” It was a furious cry of denial and pain, accompanied by a pulse of gold that extinguished the flames and surrounded Arthur in a rippling shield. It hung there for a few moments before fading, though when the God cast his fire again it broke against something, like water breaking over a rock.

"How can this be?"

For the first time the assurance was gone, the thunder and arrogance subdued.

The Maiden stepped forward. “Magic will not be gainsaid – not when it is Emrys who wields it.”

“Then I will destroy them all – I will destroy you all.” Using his hands and with a cry, a rip appeared in the very air, showing a blackness beyond. An ancient woman stepped out.

“Who has summoned the Caileach?”

"I have."

“You would release the Dorocha?”

"I would"

“Even another God must pay my price.”

"And a God will."

With a mighty cry, he took hold of the Maiden and threw her into the rift. The Mother and the Crone cried out, wailing in anguish as their sister was swallowed by the dark.

From within the inky blackness, a fearful moaning and crying could be heard approaching.

"ENOUGH."

It was a new voice and reverberated around them, from the air, the ground, the rock and the water.

Out of the crystals a woman appeared; neither old nor young but both at once; a shimmering, shifting form.

 

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651)

Arthur took the moment’s lull to look around at his companions. Morgana had Morgause in her arms, weeping silently. Merlin was staring at Arthur and his heart was in his eyes. The Gods and Goddesses, all of them, had turned to face this new arrival and Arthur swallowed when they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

"WHAT WAS YOUR CHARGE?"

The voice reverberated around them, but not aimed at the humans, Arthur realised.

"TELL ME, CHILD, WHAT WAS YOUR CHARGE?"

"To take care of the young ones, just as I am trying to do, Mother."

"IS THAT SO? OR ARE YOU SEEKING TO TIE THEM TO YOU FOR ALL TIME?"

Cerunnos spoke. "We tried to stop him, Mother. We tried to make him see."

"YOU WENT TO WAR."

There was a long silence.

"YOU HAVE MEDDLED IN WAYS NEVER INTENDED. ALL OF YOU. YOU WERE HERE TO GUIDE AND TO TEACH MY WAYS, TO ENSURE MY CHILDREN LIVED IN HARMONY WITH ME. YOU HAVE GROWN DISTANT FROM YOUR CHARGES AND SOUGHT TO CONTROL THEIR DESTINIES. THIS WILL STOP.

"YOU HAVE ENDANGERED EVEN ME IN THIS, THE MOTHER WHO GIVES YOU ALL LIFE. SO I HAVE CHOSEN MY KING AND MY CHAMPION. THEY WILL PROTECT ME IN THIS LIFE AND IN THEIR LIVES TO COME. I WILL CALL ON THEM AND ON THEIR FRIENDS WHEN I AM THREATENED AND LONG AFTER YOUR NAMES ARE FORGOTTEN, THEY WILL BE REMEMBERED AND REVERED."

Arthur was trying to decipher what this meant, even more so when he saw the startled, fearful and exultant expression Merlin turned towards him.

"THE VEIL MUST BE CLOSED."

The Caileach bowed low. “Mother, there is a cost as you yourself ordained.”

"SOMEONE MUST WALK THROUGH."

“Let me.”

Morgause had struggled to her feet, hand held close to her side. Morgana had removed the breastplate of her armour and there was a dark, sticky trail.

“Morgause, no,” Morgana pleaded with her, but Morgause’s eyes were fixed on Merlin and Arthur.

“Hush, dearest, all is well. This wound is not from a mortal weapon and will not be healed.” She waited until Merlin reached out with his hand, eyes awash with gold, and then regretfully shook his head. Morgause continued. “I have heard of the Dorocha and the toll they’ll take on everyone if they’re allowed to pass through the veil. Be brave, sister. In doing this, I can redress some of the wrongs I have done and earn my peace.”

Morgana clung to her for a few moments and then visibly pulled herself together. “I will miss you, sister.” She wiped her face fiercely with her hands and Arthur mentally applauded her as she found a smile for her sister, letting that be Morgause’s final view of her.

Morgause stepped forward, a hand pressed to her side and in obvious pain though her back was straight and head high.

"YOU MAKE THIS SACRIFICE WILLINGLY?"

“I do.”

"THEN YOU ARE BLESSED."

With one final smile for Morgana, Morgause stepped alongside the Caileach and together they walked into the darkness. The rift closed, shutting out the sounds of moaning and shrieking. Morgana stood tall, her weeping stilled by her pride.

Attention returned to those left in the cave. The shimmering figure moved to face the God.

"Please."

"YOU ARE UNMADE."

There was no time for him to even react. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

"THAT IS YOUR LESSON." She addressed the others. "TO REMEMBER YOU ARE HERE TO GUIDE AND SERVE MY CHILDREN."

They bowed, and then the weeping Crone stepped forward.

“Mother, we are the Triple Goddess, how can we guide the lives of your children without our sister?”

"YOU CANNOT."

There was a pause, and then the old woman smiled, stepping forward and reaching out a hand.

“Morgana Pendragon, will you come with us?”

There was a silence, broken only by a gasp from Merlin. Arthur was stunned into complete silence.

Morgana herself looked torn, turning to gaze at Merlin and Arthur.

“Well, Morgana,” Arthur found words at last. “You wanted to be Queen. Trust you to go one better and become a Goddess.”

Her laugh seemed to have been startled out of her. “Don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you,” she said.

Arthur grinned and extended a hand, shocked as she pulled him into a brief, fierce embrace.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

“I do.”

He led her forward and she paused by Merlin.

“I’m truly sorry, Morgana,” Merlin said.

“I know. I am, too. Look after my brother, Merlin.”

“Always. Be well, Morgana.”

She drew in a deep breath and then smiled, as if every worry, fear and grief had sloughed off her. “I shall.”

With a bow to the Mother and the Crone, Arthur released her hand to them and then stepped back.

The three walked away and, with a final glance back and a smile from Morgana, they were gone.

Arthur and Merlin were left alone, but for one indistinct figure shimmering in blue, green and brown.

"MY CHILDREN. COME TO ME."

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, who stared back at him. He had never counted himself as a sensitive man, but even he couldn’t fail to read all the emotions Merlin was expressing so clearly. Arthur reached out, tangling their fingers together and side by side they walked fearlessly into the dark water of the pool. It reached almost to their mid thigh before becoming shallow once more and they stood on the bank in front of the Mother.

"THERE ARE NO MORE SECRETS BETWEEN YOU?"

Merlin looked down.

"SPEAK."

“There are things I’ve done. Bad things. I haven’t told Arthur about them yet.”

Arthur tilted his head on one side. He remembered fire and destruction, and an apology in the midst of it all. “It was you who released the dragon, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

Merlin gaped at him and Arthur tightened his grip, stilling the trembling. “There are things I need to tell you, too, Merlin.”

Merlin returned the hold and his sigh seemed to be dredged from the depths of his body.

"YOU ARE AT PEACE WITH ONE ANOTHER."

“Yes,” said Arthur, and he’d never been so sure of anything.

“Yes,” said Merlin, and he grinned.

"GIVE ME YOUR HANDS."

There seemed no real form to the figure, but when they extended their hands, they were taken and held together. As they watched, tendrils of ivy curled around their wrists, wrapping around to hold them together. Sweet smelling honeysuckle twined through and young oak leaves filled any gap until their hands and wrists were bound together and completely covered.

"I HAVE CALLED YOU TO MY SERVICE. YOU WILL SLEEP BUT YOU WILL NOT DIE. YOU WILL WAKE AND RETURN AGAIN AND AGAIN WHEN I HAVE NEED OF YOU. THIS IS YOUR BLESSING AND YOUR BURDEN. WILL YOU ACCEPT IT?"

Merlin’s eyes were wide. “Will we be together?”

"ALWAYS."

Arthur met Merlin’s eyes and smiled as he said. “Then we accept.”

"SO BE IT."

The bindings around their hands glowed and shone with intertwining gold and silver light, before it flashed bright and was gone.

They were alone, standing in the water with their hands still clasped, and both reluctant to let go.

“Arthur.”

Arthur was pulled from his daze by the soft exclamation of surprise. Glancing at Merlin, he followed the line of Merlin's sight and couldn’t keep back his own gasp of astonishment. From wrist to elbow, they both now had a tattoo of intertwining oak, ivy and honeysuckle. And almost hidden in the centre, they could see the greenery curled round a sword and staff.

Merlin was smiling softly as Arthur met his eyes again, then leaned in to kiss Arthur. Arthur reeled him in, holding him tight as the implications of everything they’d experienced in this place caught up with him. He buried his face in Merlin’s neck and felt arms tighten around him.

After a few moments, Merlin spoke.

“I’m freezing.”

Arthur laughed and stepped back, swiping a quick hand across his eyes before reaching out to grab Merlin’s hand.

“Come on, you big girl.”

“You’d better be careful saying things like that – Morgana might be listening.”

Arthur wondered whether his expression truly reflected his horror at the thought. Merlin’s sudden laughter gave him his answer and he shook his head, trying to stop his own smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and find the others.” He felt guilty then, realising they would be concerned, though he’d no idea how much time had passed.

They waded out of the water and such was the strangeness of everything they’d experienced that day, neither of them even noticed they were bone dry. Their hands still linked, they clambered up the slope, past crystals glowing softly, and eased their way through the narrow cleft out into the daylight beyond.

Immediately they were engulfed by their friends, questions and exclamations greeting them. Eventually, the torrent of words stopped when Gwen asked.

“Where are Morgana and Morgause?”

Merlin seemed content for Arthur to tell the story Arthur though he said nothing of the exchange at the end. It was something Merlin and he would have to talk about themselves.

The knights and Gwen listened in rapt silence as they told their tale, Lancelot curving an arm round Gwen as she wept, while Leon bit his lip and stared at the ground.

Arthur sighed, weary and if he was honest, a little overwhelmed. Merlin looked dead on his feet, skin almost grey.

“Let’s stay here for the night and head back to Camelot in the morning,” Arthur said, and before long, he was forcing Merlin - and himself - to eat some bread and meat, before Merlin crawled into the tent. Arthur spent a moment or two talking to Leon before he left the knight to take the first watch and Merlin was almost asleep by the time Arthur settled beside him. Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to Merlin’s forehead, wrapped his arms around him and slept.

It was a quiet, though relieved group that made its way back to Camelot over the next few days. The earth remained still and the monsters had disappeared without trace, which was a relief, but the events had shaken them all in different ways. Even Gwaine seemed rather overawed. Not that that was likely to last for long. The sight of Camelot’s turrets coming into view was enough to have Gwaine waxing lyrical about a night in the tavern. Arthur rolled his eyes and the others grinned, but Arthur reckoned they’d all earned an outing to the Rising Sun, so didn’t comment.

There was a subdued air to the town when they trotted through. They had only been gone a few days yet the spirits of the people seem to have lowered and there was a palpable sense of fear.

With a frown, Arthur noted many were actively avoiding any interaction with them, disappearing into houses and businesses as they approached. He exchanged a worried glance with Merlin and then called Lancelot forward.

“Take Elyan and Gwen and find Gaius.”

Lancelot hardly even stopped to acknowledge the order, gesturing to a worried Elyan and trotting off towards Gaius’ chambers. With a nod to Arthur, Elyan followed.

Riding tall and assured, Arthur led the remainder of the company into the courtyard.

There was a pyre, its victim tied to it, standing tall and straight. Uther was on the balcony, his colour high and, even from the courtyard below, Arthur could see he was close to the end of his patience.

It took a moment to work out why. Milling around the pyre were a number of faces Arthur recognised – mainly the servants - and every time a knight approached with a torch, there were suddenly people in the way and somehow the torch was extinguished before it touched the wood. Although neither the knights nor the guards seemed overly eager to light the pyre.

A sharp intake of breath turned his attention to Merlin and he followed the direction his attention had taken. Standing to the side, flanked by two knights, was Gaius.

He was in chains.

As they watched, Lancelot and Elyan appeared and with a word, relieved the knights of their duty. Arthur offered Lancelot a sharp nod and without any further delay they began to unshackle Gaius.

With a turn of his head, Arthur caught Gwaine’s eye. Arthur didn’t make any further move, and Merlin was a rock by his side, as Gwaine and Percival dismounted and quickly kicked aside the wood and began to free the man tied to the pyre.

Two things occurred to him then: his father had disappeared from the balcony, and the man being helped down from the stack of wood was – “

“George?” That prompted Arthur into action and he swung himself down from his horse.

Merlin did the same and gestured to one of the nearby servants. Arthur paid no more heed , knowing Merlin would ensure the stable lads would take care of all the horses.

“Sire, it’s very good to see you.” George offered them a bow, but staggered slightly. “Really very good.” His colour drained from his face and before Arthur could help, George fainted.

Before he could speak, Gaius bustled up and if some of his usual energy was missing, one look at them silenced any enquiry about his own health.

“Poor lad’s been starved for the past two days. Percival, perhaps you’d carry him up to my rooms, please?”

Percival glanced at Arthur for his permission and then carefully lifted George. As he did so one of the castle maids ran up, bobbed a slightly frantic curtsey in Arthur's direction, scrubbed an arm across her eyes and grabbed George’s hand, trotting alongside them as she kept up with Percival’s long stride and Gaius’ urging.

Arthur was about to ask about her when a hastily aborted gasp from Merlin alerted him to the sight of a tall, cloaked figure exiting the castle and striding towards them. Even a few days earlier, Arthur would have rejoiced to see his Father so restored to health, at least on the surface.

Uther moved towards them and Arthur bent his knee to his king. Following his lead, the others did the same.

“You have returned.”

“I have. It is good to see you well, Father.”

“Is it?” Uther’s eyes roved over the company and came to rest on Merlin. “And yet you circumvent my orders and free sorcerers that would seek to destroy me. I can see it’s true – you’ve been enchanted. I will speak to you again once the sorcerer’s curse on you has been lifted.”

“What? Father?”

“Arrest them all.”

There was confusion as knights tried to arrest knights and obviously conflicted men agonised as they tried to arrest their Crown Prince, but as soon as they put hands on Merlin, Arthur decided it had to stop.

“Enough.”

There was force in his delivery, something beyond his usual regal tone, something that asserted to all listening Arthur knew his rank and his quality.

“Father, I would welcome an explanation.”

“Very well. I have been having dreams, Arthur. I have been visited by a God. He praised my efforts to rid the land of magic and urged me to continue. He said you’d been enchanted and I had to burn the sorcerer to release you from the spell. He told me I must continue to purge magic from the land.”

Arthur managed to keep his expression calm through this tirade, but his heart sank. He had no doubt about the identity of this God.

“I'm under no enchantment, Father. I have much to tell you and would prefer to do it over a meal.” He was striving for normality, trying to get his father to take a step back, at least to give Arthur enough time to think through what he needed to do. There was no doubt in his mind that Uther was unfit to rule, and had been for many years.

Perhaps it was because his father knew him so well, or perhaps something in Arthur’s expression had given him away but suddenly Uther stepped back.

“Imposter,” he said. “My son would not allow a sorcerer to live.” There was the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard and it was enough to send people scrabbling backwards.

“Father, please.” Arthur drew his own blade, taking up a defensive stance more by habit and training than any conscious decision.

“I will tie you to the pyre with your puppet master.”

Spittle flew from Uther’s lips and there was nothing but madness in his eyes. His colour was hectic and his breath was harsh and laboured, even though he had yet to move.

Afterwards, Arthur was never sure if he really had heard a voice, but it seemed the breeze which ruffled his hair in that moment carried the words …

"ENOUGH, CHILD."

…just as his father dropped his sword to clutch at his chest. Arthur released his hold on his own swordand darted forward, catching Uther before he hit the cobbles and easing him down.

“Get Gaius,” he shouted.

Uther was staring up at him and his eyes were clear. He smiled, and touched a gloved hand to Arthur’s face.

“Arthur,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes wandered and then lighted up, brighter and more joyful than Arthur had ever seen.

“Ygraine.”

Despite everything Uther had done, it seemed the Mother still had mercy for him.

Arthur’s first act as King was to have the pyre removed from the courtyard. Even before his father’s body had been prepared for its lying in state, the area was swept clean.

His second act, despite howls of protest from some of Uther’s old supporters, was to call the Council together in the Great Hall and immediately repeal the ban on magic.

The arguments as to crimes involving magic usage began the moment he made the proclamation and after an hour of circular assertions and counter-assertions, he’d run out of patience.

“Gaius – as well as a number of other council members – were here in the days before the purge. I suggest you put your memories to work and recall how things used to be. Geoffrey will help - as will my Court Sorcerer.”

The statement was met with sudden quiet.

Arthur spared a moment to cast a quick glance in Merlin’s direction. Merlin didn’t look happy, and Arthur wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t guess what was coming next – or because he did.

“Merlin?”

Merlin scowled at him. He had guessed, then. Perhaps Arthur should have discussed it with him first, but as he never intended taking no for an answer, perhaps this way was better. With a smile, he had to admit was a touch smug, Arthur addressed the open-mouthed council. Well, most were open-mouthed, Gaius and Geoffrey both seemed to have difficulty hiding their amusement.

“Merlin is known to the magical community as Emrys and has the highest standing. He is the ideal person to be Camelot’s Court Sorcerer. I’m sure you’ll agree.” There was a moment, a tiny moment, where he channelled his father and was pleased to see the effect as a forest of bobbing heads greeted his statement.

Arthur looked over at Merlin and received a nod in return; sober, understanding. Then Merlin stepped forward to stand at his side, no longer in the shadows, no longer hidden. No-one missed the significance of this moment as Merlin took his rightful place beside his Once and Future King.

“I’m sorry about your father, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed and turned away from the window.

There had been so much to do and arrange during the day, it was only now, with a bright full moon high in a clear sky, they had managed to make their way to Arthur’s chambers.

“Are you angry at me?” Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin’s comment because, if he was honest, he wasn’t sure just how to acknowledge how he felt about his father’s death as yet, struggling against an overwhelming sense of relief, and the guilt that went along with it.

Merlin looked puzzled.

“About the whole Court Sorcerer thing?”

Merlin chuckled. “It was a bit of a shock, but I should’ve known you’d do something like that and it was worth it to see their faces. They spent the afternoon bowing to me. I thought Gaius was going to burst, he was trying so hard not to laugh.”

Arthur let out a quiet sigh of relief, returning his attention to the courtyard, to try and hide the emotion.

A hand rested between his shoulder blades. “It’s what we were told, really, isn’t it? It’s you and me – it’s always going to be you and me.”

“And that suits you?”

“Oh yes, Arthur, that suits me perfectly.”

There was utter certainty in Merlin’s voice as he turned Arthur towards him, and then there was no more talking for some time as Merlin’s gentle caress deepened and the passion that had been simmering between them for so long was let loose.

When Arthur was next fully aware of his surroundings, he was glad to see they’d made it as far as the bed. They were both still fully clothed but even so there could be no doubt of their desire. Merlin’s fingers were plucking at the laces of his shirt and Arthur took a moment to be diverted from his own attempts at disrobing Merlin to assist, eventually shrugging out of the shirt. He let loose a low groan as Merlin’s hands wandered across his chest, yelping as a hot mouth followed.

In the end, Arthur welcomed the wash of Merlin’s magic as he lost patience and simply sent their clothes who knew where. He laughed aloud and could feel the way Merlin’s mouth stretched into an answering grin against his skin. Then Merlin touched him and Arthur could think of nothing else but their pleasure, content in the knowledge that he trusted and was trusted in return, that he loved and was loved in return. It was more than he could ever have hoped for and there was joy bubbling through him as he took Merlin to his bed.

Merlin woke slowly, more comfortable than he could remember being – well, almost in forever. He stretched and then snuggled back down against Arthur’s body, enjoying the feather bed and being beside the person he loved best in the world. In all his months and years in Camelot, this was an outcome he’d hardly ever even dreamed of. Arthur knew about his magic and accepted it; he knew about their destiny and wanted them to face it together; he knew about Merlin’s love for him and returned it. There were no more secrets between them and Merlin felt light. He felt free.

Arthur mumbled something in his sleep and reached out, settling again when his hand was resting on Merlin’s hip. Merlin smiled and wondered if it was too early to wake Arthur. His smile faded slightly as he took in the slightly bruised look under Arthur’s eyes and his pallor.

Arthur needed a peaceful sleep, and that was what he was going to get. With a muttered word the sounds of early morning activity dulled to ensure it wouldn’t disturb them and with a smile, he settled down. In moments, his eyelids were drooping.

 Arthur woke to the sound of quiet, persistent argument.

“I’m Arthur’s manservant.”

“No, my Lord, you are not.”

“Don’t call me that, George. I’m not your Lord.”

“I think you’ll find that you are, my Lord Emrys.”

There was a long silence.

“Did everyone except me know I’m Emrys?”

“Only those of us with magic, my Lord.”

There was another long silence and Arthur tried hard not to laugh.

“You never did polish all that brass by hand, did you George?”

Arthur managed to stuff some of the bedding into his mouth.

“Oh, stop pretending you’re still asleep, Arthur.”

“Having some issues with the servants, Merlin?”

“No, I _am_ a servant.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“Shall I serve breakfast?” George made a valiant attempt to stop the argument degenerating. Just as well, thought Arthur, because the sight of the King sticking his tongue out at the Court Sorcerer – also known as the King’s consort – would be less than dignified.

Although, of course, he hadn’t actually told Merlin he’d been fired. Or that he was going to be the King’s consort.

“Merlin, you’re fired. George is now our manservant.”

“You – what?” Merlin looked as if he was going to launch into one of his spectacular tirades, but instead he caught his breath. “ _Our_ manservant?”

“Well, yes. I mean, you can have your own if you want but it seems pointless if we’re both in the same place.”

“Same place?”

George cleared his throat gently, though he was struggling to keep his face straight. “I think, my Lord Emrys, that the King is intending to –“ He stopped suddenly at Merlin’s open mouth and wide eyes.

“Thank you, George, perhaps you could give us a few moments.”

“Of course, sire, My Lord.”

Arthur hardly noticed him leave. “Merlin?”

“Arthur, I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do, Merlin. You understood in the cave. There’s no-one for me but you. There’s no-one for you but me.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want everyone to know.”

“No more secrets, Merlin. From now on, everyone will know what you mean to me and what I mean to you. If you’ll have me, you would become my Consort in the eyes of our people, but as leader of the magical world, your status is equal to mine.”

Merlin was smiling at him now, his eyes clear and untroubled, and Arthur was amazed at how free he looked, free of a burden, of carrying a weight of destiny all on his own.

There was no further time for reflection as Merlin tackled him, laughing and joyous, tumbling them down onto the rumpled bedclothes and claimed his mouth.

Some hours later, George entered quietly and spent a moment looking down at his charges. Gently, he pulled the covers over the entwined figures. Neither of them so much as twitched, which was enough of an indication of their exhaustion. Well, they were his to look after now. Leaving as silently as he’d arrived, he exchanged a quiet word with the guard and headed for the Great Hall. The Council could wait.

“Arthur?”

Alerted by the odd tone in Merlin’s voice, Arthur looked up from the parchment he’d been studying.

In the past few days, they had both been kept busy, sequestered in endless meetings, interrupted only by the rites surrounding Uther’s internment. Arthur was still tired from a sleepless night holding his vigil and was looking forward to a quiet evening with Merlin and an early night. The tone in Merlin’s voice suggested it might not be happening quite as he hoped.

“What is it?”

“You need to come and see this.”

Arthur sighed at Merlin’s expectant face and dragged himself to his feet. As he walked down the corridor, he was comforted by a brief, sympathetic squeeze to his arm, though Merlin prattled on seemingly unconcerned by Arthur’s silence.

How well they knew each other, Arthur thought, especially now the need for secrecy and pretence had been stripped away.

He felt his exhaustion ease as he listened to what Merlin was telling him.

“Apparently most of the servants never did give up the Old Religion. They saved as many of the relics and shrines as they could. Would you believe George has been taking care of it all? He carried on the work of his father. Hilda, George’s wife, has been telling me all about it. Uther finally found out and that’s how he ended up on the pyre. Anyway, there’s a set of windows that were once in the Great Hall – coloured glass showing pictures of the gods and goddesses. George took me to see everything today. You know he’s wasted as a manservant, we’ll need to reconsider that.”

“Merlin? The point?”

“George nearly shrieked when he looked at them, it was so funny. One of the windows has changed.”

Arthur caught the sideways glance. “Are you going to tell me?”

Merlin chuckled. “Oh, no – this you have to see for yourself.”

Merlin had been leading them deep into the bowels of the castle, down corridors Arthur didn’t think he’d travelled in years. They came to one which appeared to be a dead end until Merlin swept aside a tapestry and pushed open a door.

They both had to duck as they entered and when Arthur stood straight, he gasped at the serried rows of objects he knew Uther would have destroyed on sight. The place was spotless and meticulously organised. Light was provided by torches placed carefully around the walls and Merlin added to it with a word. The bright blue orb travelled before them to lead the way. Arthur looked at it and smiled.

There was an easel set up, a panel sitting on it, though it was currently covered. With something of a flourish, Merlin pulled it aside.

Arthur stared.

And stared.

And then laughed, in delight and surprise, and if there was a slightly hysterical edge to it and he had to dash a hand across his eyes, Merlin didn’t comment.

It was a beautiful panel from a window – the figures defined by the different jewel colours of the glass in a stunning depiction of the Triple Goddess. Arthur looked at the maiden, the dark hair with its circlet of gold and gems, and her beauty was everything he remembered.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8056651)

“What should we do with it?” Merlin asked.

“I think everything should be returned to its rightful place. It will take time – but I’d like this to be in the hall for the coronation.

Merlin smiled his approval.

As they turned away, Arthur thought he had to have imagined the wink.

As was the way of Kings and Dynasties, fast on the heels of Uther’s internment came Arthur’s coronation. It was a solemn occasion and Arthur took his vows, meaning every word of them and knowing, too, those vows went so much further than anyone listening could understand. He felt the weight of the crown settle on his head and smiled out at the assembled crowd as they hailed him king. When the court had calmed, he spoke.

“I will strive at all times to be the King my people and land need. To do so, I would ask that the man I love is by my side. Merlin, Son of Hunith, Lord Emrys, Court Sorcerer and Dragonlord – attend me.”

Looking distinctly wary and supremely uncomfortable in the new clothes Arthur had provided, Merlin approached the throne.

“Kneel.”

Geoffrey approached then and Merlin repeated his own vows, swearing to serve his king and the land, to honour the Old Religion and to govern the use of magic.

Arthur reached out his hand when Merlin finished. In taking his vows of love and fealty, Merlin seemed to have sloughed off his unease and smiled at Arthur, letting himself be led to the throne set next to Arthur’s own.

As he sat down the high windows opened and although it was too early in the year, a host of coloured butterflies, with their colours resembling gold and jewels, flitted into the room. The air seemed full of them for a moment before they settled around Merlin’s head and stilled, becoming a bejewelled circlet.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat and saw Merlin do the same. Merlin really had been forgiven, it seemed.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur announced the feasting should begin, and then he stood to lead them all into the banqueting hall. He held out his hand to Merlin and felt a joy so deep he had to express it. Reaching forward, he kissed Merlin briefly, feeling the curve of a hand around his cheek as the caress was reciprocated.

Peace had come to Camelot and the Earth rejoiced.

 

Fin


End file.
